


Dear Video Diary

by IntoTheRiverStyx



Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23606452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheRiverStyx/pseuds/IntoTheRiverStyx
Summary: It had been a simple idea, in theory, to split up into groups of five based on random draws from a hat and scatter to the winds for a month, with one lucky group staying behind to comb the very lands that had spit them out twice now. Each group had a path, a plan, a purpose. There was information to gather, magics to trace, and, if they were lucky, some more parties to track down. Once Arthur felt assured that there would be no murders or otherwise unscripted deaths, tickets were booked, hotel rooms and rental houses were scheduled, bags were packed and repacked, goodbyes were said, and missions were underway.Inspired bythis postover on tumblr.Shoutout toWeCouldPretend/knight-of-the-kitchenfor letting me use their idea as a springboard.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. Day Zero

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the gravity of the, well, everything, hopefully a little humor mixed with the reality of things is good for y'all.

It had been a simple idea, in theory, to split up into groups of five based on random draws from a hat and scatter to the winds for a month, with one lucky group staying behind to comb the very lands that had spit them out twice now. Each group had a path, a plan, a purpose. There was information to gather, magics to trace, and, if they were lucky, some more parties to track down. Once Arthur felt assured that there would be no murders or otherwise unscripted deaths, tickets were booked, hotel rooms and rental houses were scheduled, bags were packed and repacked, goodbyes were said, and missions were underway.

Which would have been fine had the global quarantine not come down in the middle of things, stranding everyone so far away from home and each other.

“Someone is going to die,” Arthur said to his surprise roommates as soon as they heard the news, “Not here, I don't think, but someone.”

“Well,” Tristan cleared his throat, “so far groups one and six _may_ be able to make it back home before their locations get locked down. Maybe some of the others?”

Group one – comprised of Gawain, Percival, Igraine, Bors, and Clarissant – was in Iceland and group six – a slightly more volatile mix of Merlin, Enid, Agrivane, Kay, and Vivian - should have just been touching down in Florida for a whirlwind trip through the continental United States.

“I can send them a message now,” Mordred offered, “let them know if they want to postpone their trips until travel's free again, they're more than welcome to.” Arthur nodded and Mordred started typing.

“So far not even the entire country of Italy's under lockdown,” Elaine said, “just us and some surrounding areas.”

“Go figure,” Mordred muttered.

“What are we going to do?” Brangaine asked.

“Well,” Arthur drummed his fingertips on the counter, “we can either try to contact the embassy and spend two weeks in isolated quarantine from the date they decide to get us before we're allowed anywhere, or...” he trailed off

“...or we stay here and wait for the travel ban to be lifted?” Elaine guessed.

“Or that,” Arthur sighed.

“Even if we stay for a bit and try wait out the shelter-in-place order,” Tristan said, “and it winds up being more than two weeks, we can always contact an embassy later?”

“We have six hours before the shelter-in-place goes down,” Mordred put his phone in his pocket, “and no food in the fridge. So, _I_ am going to go to the store, everyone text me your lists so we don't wind up getting arrested for standing to close together or something, and, uh, try not to be the first party with a murder?”

Mordred was out the door before anyone could ask him why he'd say something like that.

–

“Go home?” Kay scoffed at the text from Mordred, “Go home, when we just got here?”

“What's happening?” Agrivane asked.

“The group in Italy's had a travel ban,” Kay told him, “Mordred's saying we can go home to avoid getting trapped in America if we wish.”

“Should we?” Enid asked.

“Please,” Merlin rolled his eyes, “this is America. They're going to be the last country to ban travel.”

“I hate that you have a good point,” Vivian told him.

“It may be wise to expedite some of the more crowded areas,” Agrivane suggested.

“And risk getting stuck in the middle of fuck all?” Enid asked, “No thanks.”

“We stick to the timeline,” Kay's tone told everyone there would be no further discussion, “and deal with what happens, not the what-ifs.”

–

Gawain chucked his phone as he read Mordred's text. Bors managed to catch it before it hit the ground.

“You get one,” Bors said as he handed the phone back to Gawain, “next time there I'm letting it hit the floor.”

“Should have let it fall,” Igraine said.

“And let him whine about not being able to play his games?” Clarissant countered. Igraine shrugged.

“What's going on?” Percival interrupted the spat before it could start.

“Arthur's group's stuck in Italy for a while,” Gawain put his phone on the couch next to him to avoid the temptation of throwing it again, “and said we can go home if we want to try to avoid getting stuck anywhere.”

“Stuck?” Bors asked, “Right. The epidemic.”

“Seems it's worse than suspected,” Gawain grumbled, “What do we do?”

“I have a feeling it's only going to keep getting worse,” Percival was standing in the rental kitchen, unsure what to do, “both in terms of spread and travel restrictions.”

“We discuss,” Bors said simply, “and then we vote on our last day here. Besides, we are here for two weeks. At the end of the two weeks if our course of action has been decided for us, there are worse places to be stuck.”

–

“Fuck,” Gaheris nearly dropped his phone.

“What's going on?” Dinadan asked. Instead of answering, Gaheris passed Dinadan his phone. After a few seconds, Dinadan's eyes went wide. “Well fuck me,” Dinadan said with a sharp exhale.

“Not if that's how you're asking,” Lamorak said reflexively. Palamedes smacked Lamorak upside the head. Morgan laughed at Lamorak's indignant expression.

“Apparently part of Italy's been locked down,” Dinadan told the group. Morgan's laughter died in her throat.

“It's the part Arthur's group is in, isn't it?” Lamorak asked. Gaheris and Dinadan nodded.

“Well,” Palamedes crossed his arms, a measure meant to be self-comforting but it just came across as aggressive, “how bad could it get here in Spain?”

“How bad could it get anywhere?” Gaheris wasn't really looking for an answer, “I say for now we stick to the plan, and the instant it looks like we might be stuck anywhere, we book it home.”

“Works for me,” Morgan shrugged, “You three?” Dinadan, Palamedes, and Lamorak nodded, really not wanting to be the one whose ideas got them stuck _anywhere_ for any length of time.

–

“So uh,” Yvain said to Morgause as they more hovered around than stood in the living room of their tiny rental house, “do we wake them or do we tell them when they get up?”

“We tell them when they wake up,” Morgause didn't hesitate, “Lancelot's going to panic, Ragnelle has no patience for panic, and Iseult didn't sleep the entire way here.”

“Fair point,” Yvain was glad he asked – he would have woken them up, “What do we do?”

“We're on an tiny but densely populated island nation,” Morgause's voice was a harsh whisper, “the only way out is going to be surrounding ourselves by dozens if not hundreds of other people.”

“Right,” Yvain was about ready to make her in charge of everything from that moment until they found a way home.

“I wonder how everyone else is holding up,” Morgause kind of changed the subject.

“Some better than others, I'd imagine,” Yvain said with a yawn.

–

Mordred returned much, much later than he'd expected to, the four people he was stuck with for the foreseeable future crowded by the door.

“Like a pack of dogs,” Mordred meant it as a joke.

“Are you alright?” Arthur drew him in for a hug, seemingly oblivious to the bags Mordred was carrying

“Yeah,” Mordred felt his irritation drain out of him, “Seems everyone else had the same idea. It was _violent_ at times. I got what I could, but we're either going to have to get creative, try again in a day or two, or hope there's a better system put in place, like, now.”

“Here,” Elaine took the bags out of Mordred's right hand, “those look heavy.”

“Right,” Tristan took the bags out of his left, “we'll get these put away.”

“I'm going to shower,” Mordred told everyone, “and maybe bleach my skin or something.”

“One-to-ten ration of bleach to water!” Brangaine called from the kitchen.

Mordred mumbled his thanks and hoped it wasn't too early to just go to bed for the night after his shower.

–

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” Guinevere yelled in the general direction of the front door, “For goodness' sake, I am _coming_!” she swung the door open with more force than it needed, expecting a charity knocker, “Bedivere?” she looked him over, “What's wrong?”

“Part of Italy's on lockdown,” Bedivere told her as he let himself in, “and the rest of the world's watching.”

“So what are you doing here?” she asked.

“Your house is the biggest,” Bedivere pointed out, “and I figure all our friends and family are some of the most stubborn bastards the universe has ever spat out, so they're going to all get stuck somewhere in the coming weeks in the name of trying to carry out their quests.”

“So are you,” Guinevere watched him set up what looked like a series of laptops on her kitchen table, “Are you trying to bring them home before it's too late? What are you doing?”

“I,” Bedivere looked up at her and grinned, “am going to try to convince at least one person from each group to do a daily video diary and send it to us.”

“And here I thought Kay was the one for drama and gossip,” Guinevere couldn't help the grin that was forming, “should I let the other three know to come here?”

“Absolutely,” Bedivere went back to his setup, “and please ask Galahad to stop by mine and get me some clothes?”

“You packed enough computer equipment for at least three people but no clothes?” she asked him, “And why clothes?

“I came right from work!” Bedivere explained, “And besides, out of him, Gareth, and Geriant, who are you trusting most to go through your stuff?”

“Depends entirely on what I keep with my clothes,” Guinevere told him, “but point taken. _Why_ clothes, though?”

“I'm not sure if you're not giving Galahad enough credit or the others too much,” Bedivere told her, “Also, I have a feeling we're going to be under a similar shelter-in-place lockdown sooner than later, so if we want to not be alone for a long ass time, we're all going to want to be together.”

“You really think it'll come to that?” Guinevere already had her phone out.

“Without question,” Bedivere nodded, his tone suddenly flat. Guinevere's grin shifted into a frown.

Whatever was coming, whatever the five groups scattered across the globe were about to face, she hoped the video diaries were at least entertaining.


	2. It's Got Brandy in It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The video diaries start getting delivered, plus one live call.
> 
> Tea is not an option - it's a requirement.

“So basically,” Galahad said as he set his and Bedivere's bags down by Guinevere's front door, “you're asking everyone to send you their journal in mp4 format.”

“Somehow that sounds more invasive than _video diary_ ,” Bedivere was much more focused on getting whatever array of computers working than Galahad or Guinevere, “but yeah. Did you have any problems getting into mine?”

“Nope,” Galahad told him, “How long do you think we'll be here?”

“Could be weeks,” Bedivere replied, “could be months.”

“Ah shit,” Galahad swore.

“Don't you have pets?” Guinevere asked.

“I do,” Galahad frowned, “How do you feel about rodents?”

“I don't mind them,” Guinevere told him, “go get your pets.”

“Back soon,” Galahad was gone again.

“It's Arthur who doesn't like rodents, isn't it?” Bedivere asked as soon as Galahad shut the door.

“Anything smaller than a rabbit and he just freaks out,” Guinevere tried not to laugh at her husband's expense, “Why does Galahad have a key to yours and none of the rest of us do?”

“Oh, he doesn't,” Bedivere's reply was almost reflexive, “nor does he have the key to yours but he let himself in just fine.”

And, really, Guinevere hadn't realized she'd locked the door after letting Bedivere in.

–

“A video diary?” Percival asked as he stared at the group e-mail, “That's an odd request.”

“Perhaps not,” Bors was in the middle of fixing everyone lunch. Percival tilted his head sideways, a question asked without words. “Well,” Bors continued, “one, it will be a good way to keep a record of how everyone handles the lockdowns when it comes to it.”

“And two?” Percival knew if Bors said one, there was at least a two.

“I'll get some more firewood from the shed!” Clarissant called from the front of the house.

“Nope!” Gawain called from the upstairs, “I've got it!”

“NO!” Clarissant shrieked, the door slamming behind her.

“GET BACK HERE!” Gawain bellowed.

“Two,” Bors chuckled and inclined his head towards the front of the house.

“Those two,” Igraine said as she came in to put the kettle on one of the unused burners, “are going to do enough work for five people.”

“Must be nice,” Percival said, “having a sibling around.”

“Oh honey,” Igraine hugged him, “You're all my children and grandchildren now.”

Bors wished he'd had his phone on him to capture that moment.

–

“We got one!” Bedivere exclaimed, “First video submission!”

He heard three sets of rushed footfalls and knew it would be Galahad, Gareth, and Geriant, each wanting to be closest to the screen.

“Whose is it?” Guinevere asked from the kitchen.

“Ragnelle's,” Bedivere told her, “They're in Tokyo.”

“Alright,” Galahad tried to come to a stop before he collided with Bedivere, succeeded, but Gareth did not, sending both of them sprawling. Bedivere protected his electronics on instinct, which largely involved pushing both of them backwards and right into Geriant.

“Well,” Guinevere hid her smile by taking a sip of tea, “I have a feeling that hurt.”

“Me more than them,” there was no heat in Bedivere's words, “Anyways,” he cleared his throat and then hit play.

–

_“Alright,” Ragnelle checked herself in the frame to make sure she was capturing the incident going on just behind her, “Video entry one. It's March tenth, we're on day two at a small private rental and as you can see, some of us are handling the sudden change in global trajectory better than the rest of us.”_

_She adjusted the camera so it better caught Lancelot and Morgause locked in some sort of near-screaming match with Lancelot accusing her of having no regard for everyone else's wellbeing and Morgause telling him he was blowing everything completely out of proportion._

_Ragnelle readjusted the camera so she was back in the frame._

_“They've been doing this for about ten minutes,” she sighed, “and it's over which direction the toilet roll goes.”_

–

“Pause it,” Gareth told Bedivere before he started laughing so hard they would have missed the rest of the audio anyways.

“He would,” Galahad pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Everyone knows it goes with the sheets pointed down,” Geriant said.

“The fuck it doesn't!” Gareth was already yelling.

“It points down both ways!” Galahad interrupted, “Gravity!”

The three of them began bickering so loudly that Bedivere covered the ear nearest to them. Guinevere offered him her cup of tea.

“There's brandy in it,” she whispered.

Bedivere took the cup. Guinevere laughed and got up to fix herself another one.

–

Bedivere whistled and all four of the other people in the house came running. There was no crash this time, blessedly, because he didn't think he'd restrain his pushback a second time.

“We have a second video,” he told everyone, “This one's from Mordred.”

–

_“Day two of lockdown,” Mordred was facing the camera and looked exhausted, “and there are sirens all the time.”_

_As if to prove a point, sirens that sounded close by cut him off. Still, there was a small, frustrated sigh from behind the camera. Mordred pursed his lips, more annoyed than anything._

_“Brangaine and Tristan are beginning to drudge up first life shit,” Mordred sighed, “Which, not that it doesn't have some valid points, but **maybe** there are better times than when we're literally stuck in the same tiny house?”_

_Mordred sighed again and started walking around. “There's really only beds for three,” he said, “The listing said five, but it turned out two of the beds are full sized, which, well, I guess you could fit two people if they were average sized or smaller and didn't kick when they're asleep.”_

Guinevere said, “He's talking about Arthur,” at the same time Galahad said, “That's a weird way to do a self call out.” Bedivere snorted and hit play again.

_“So anyways,” Mordred was pacing around the lower level, “we're rotating who sleeps where so we don't have someone on the couch and someone getting kicked every night._

_“It's weird, the amount of fear in the air. Not just from us, but also from everyone around us. It's like there's a miasma but it's not what we now know are germs, just fear.”_

“Is he a magician?” Gareth asked.

“Not as far as I know,” Guinevere said, “but given his parentage, he very well could be.”

_“I just wish there was more I could do,” Mordred continued, “not just with the mounting tensions inside, but also outside. It doesn't make any sense, how much food's being wasted as restaurants and such while people are ready to riot and steal.”_

_“Mo!” Arthur called, “What are you doing?”_

_“The video diary thing!” Mordred called back, “Have you done one yet?”_

_“No,” everyone could hear the headshake even if they couldn't see it, “Oh, no, don't,” Arthur batted the camera away as Mordred turned it towards him, “What do you even say in one of those?”_

_“I''ve mostly been rambling,” Mordred told him, keeping the camera on Arthur, “about how everything feels.”_

_“It feels fucking awful,” Arthur answered honestly, “like no matter how much fresh air we get there just isn't enough.”_

_“More concise that I'd managed,” Mordred's shrug could be heard in his voice._

_“You're the only one who's tried to get supplies,” Arthur said with a huff, “Well, succeeded, but still. I feel like I don't have the right to complain.”_

_“Everyone has the right to complain,” Mordred tried to assure him._

_“I've sat through sieges with less,” Arthur crossed his arms._

_“And if this was a siege,” Mordred was trying to be patient, “or anything history had even seen before, that would be one thing.”_

_Arthur made a noise that wasn't a happy one, but wasn't an unhappy one either._

_“I'm proud of you, Mo,” Arthur told his son._

“Aw,” Galahad frowned, “he cut the video.”

“It's nice to see them getting on this time,” Guinevere admitted, “He's a good kid.”

Galahad made a pleased noise. Gareth jostled him, teasing.

Bedivere put an arm up to block his computers preemptively.

–

“Oh!” Bedivere exclaimed so loudly the trio stopped bickering, “Call from Enid. Hello?”

“We're switching to video,” Enid said without preamble. Bedivere shrugged and did so. She managed a nervous laugh before she said, “Don't worry, I'm recording, but I figured you'd want to see this one.”

“What's going on?” Bedivere asked her.

“That's just it,” she said, camera pointed over her shoulder, “everything we've been trying to plan has been put on hold.”

Behind her, Bedivere could make out Kay asleep on the floor, sprawled out over a series of maps, printed itinerary sheets, and travel brochures.

Bedivere laughed so hard that Kay stirred but did not wake up.

“Okay, he looks less terrifying when he's asleep,” Gareth remarked.

“You say that from across the ocean,” Enid rolled her eyes, “We tried to move the maps and he growled. _Growled_ , Gareth.”

“Oh, yeah, he does that,” Bedivere bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing again, “You should try taking a blanket.”

“No thanks,” Enid shuddered.

“I can't even blame blood on that one,” Guinevere said mildly.

“I don't want to know,” Enid told her, “But yeah, Bedivere, your boy's asleep on our planning area.”

“Maybe try a table next time,” Bedivere suggested. Enid made a frustrated noise that turned onto a laugh midway through.

“Seriously though,” Enid said, “how do you get him up?”

“Coffee,” Bedivere told her, “Just set it, like, a foot or so out of his reach.. He'll get up.”

“Thanks,” she turned the camera back around, “We're all exhausted so I can't really blame him.”

“He and Arthur were both like that growing up,” Bedivere was grinning, “Once they were tired, they just went down. Tell him to call me when he gets up?”

“Will do,” she assured him, “Again, thanks.”

“Good luck,” Bedivere told her. She nodded and ended the call.

“It's kind of weird,” Gareth said, “how much I'm learning about everyone just by the videos.”

“It's so strangely intimate,” Geriant added.

“We're only going to learn more as time stuck together goes on,” Galahad said, “Is it bad I hope we get more like Ragnelle's?”

“With some incident going on in the background?” Gareth asked. Galahad nodded.

“Not at all,” Guinevere was smiling, “this was one of the best ideas you've had, Bedivere.”

If Bedivere sat up a little straighter at the praise, she wasn't going to mention it to him. He was, after all, one of her husband's best Knights in their first life and one of the most even-tempered people this second round, and the Heavens themselves knew Arthur was sparse with his praise.

–

_”Day two, video diary entry one,” Dinadan had both himself in Palamedes half in the frame, almost bracketing the sides with half their faces, the gap between them that allowed for a clear view of Morgan having both Lamorak and Gaheris pinned to the floor by their necks, “and we've had our first attempted murder,” his voice was far too chipper._

_“It seems the boys are a little sore over the fact they can't agree on a woman's right to autonomy.”_

_“That is not the problem!” Gaheris screamed._

_“The fuck it isn't,” Morgan's voice was level, something resembling laughter trying to creep in._

_“It wasn't even what it looked like!” Lamorak was clearly trying to back out of Morgan's hold, not lunge at Gaheris._

_“We have no idea how this started,” Palamedes said into the camera, “only that there was shouting, then a loud thump, then more yelling. And none of the yelling or thumping was Morgan.”_

_“Now the yelling is me!” Morgan called out loud enough to be heard clearly._

_“So anyways,” Dinadan's eyes were focused on where he would looking at the unfolding scene rather than the camera, “things have gone to shit fairly early, and I almost want to apologize for ever trying to insist there would be no murder this trip, because I am no longer convinced I can keep that promise and it wo't even be something I can control.”_

_“Stop that,” Palamedes very clearly jostled Dinadan with his shoulder just below where the camera was focused._

_“It's going to be an interesting next several days,” Dinadan carried on, “and I feel like the rapidly descending travel restrictions aren't going to be the most unpredictable thing.”_

_“Please,” Palamedes' one visible eye rolled, “community panic is predictable.”_

_“But personal grudges and their associated things are not,” Dinadan's attention went back to the scene behind them._

“Goddamn,” Gareth whistled, “I should have seen that coming, really.”

“Who would we have switching him with, thought?” Guinevere asked, “Gawain's in group one, he wouldn't've been here given his love for wandering.”

“Could have switched him and Morgan,” Galahad said.

“Then everyone would have been trying to switch,” Geriant pointed out.

“Could have switched Agrivane and Gaheris,” Gareth said, “Sure, they have the same grudge, but Agrivane gets skittish when someone tries to goad him into a fight.”

“Skittish in a kind word for it,” Bedivere sighed and closed the first laptop, “They're going to have to learn to get on, and they're going to have to brace themselves for exactly how nebulous Camelot's relations could be.”

“I don't want to know,” Galahad held up his hands.

“Agreed,” Gareth's face paled.

“I'm going to get started in breakfast,” Geraint volunteered. Galahad and Gareth followed him.

Guinevere snickered. “Do you have to do that to them?” she asked.

“What?” Bedivere started shutting down the rest of his equipment, “They were!”

“Fair,” Guinevere shrugged, “Also, do they know it's lunch already?”

“I want to see what they consider breakfast,” Bedivere decided.

“They're all under twenty-five,” Guinevere pointed out, “We're going to get mostly sugar.”

“It's a risk I'm willing to take,” Bedivere shrugged.

“You just want to see if they set the eggs on fire again,” she accused.

“THAT WAS ONCE!” Gareth's voice came from the kitchen.

“You WHAT?” Galahad squeaked.

“Tea?” Guinevere asked.

“If I ever refuse assume I am actively dying,” Bedivere told her.


	3. Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lessons are in progress. Some people are picking things up faster than others.

_“Day three,” Percival was behind the camera, not in front of it, “and just Gawain seems to be noticing how little sunlight there is this far north at the beginning of March.”_

_“It's supposed to be the equinox soon!” Gawain could be heard from another room, “Why is it still getting dark at, like, four!”_

_Percival rounded the corner, camera lowered as if he was carrying it next to his leg._

_“Because we are in **Finland**!” Clarissant drew out the country's name like it might help Gawain understand, “North?”_

_“I know where we are!” Gawain was mostly in the frame, arms crossed, clearly sulking in front of the fireplace._

_“It's nearly nine!” Igraine's voice filtered through the bickering, calm and smooth and just a hint of carefully concealed laughter, “Neither of you should be going outside this late for more firewood!”_

_“Bur gramma!” Clarissant whined._

_“No buts!” Igraine was close to laughing, “Percival, dear, is there anything I can help you with?”_

_“Or I can help you with,” Gawain was already on his feet._

_“Or me!” Clarissant must have been headed towards Percival judging by hos Percival was backing up._

_“Uh,” Percuval raised both his hands in a surrendering gesture, the camera swinging out of focus before it re-focused on the wall._

_“Food!” Bors called from the kitchen._

_“Food!” Gawain and Clarissant said in unison, their drive to be the one to help Percival forgotten as quickly as it had overtaken them._

_“Do you know what Bors is making?” Ingraine asked._

_“Some sort of berry things with a crunchy topping?” Pervical had forgotten the name of it, “Not a pie, not a cobbler?”_

_“I think I'll let them get their serving first,” Igraine decided, “They are so unlike their mother.”_

_“What was Morgause like,” Percival finally lowered his arms, “When she was their age, I mean.”_

_“Oh, Mogrs,” Igraine let out a sad, soft laugh, “She was my most headstrong child, always wanted to be the first to do something, but she was quiet about it. Instead of trying the most direct approach, she would figure out which way was most likely to be successful.”_

_“Sounds like a handful, as a small child,” Percival sat down somewhere that wasn't the floor, camera still rolling._

_“Oh, she was,” Igraine's voice held a motherly fondness, “I could have skinned Uther alive for marrying off all my children like he did.”_

_There was a slight pause before Percival said, “I don't think anyone would have stopped you.”_

_He cut the camera off._

–

“Well that's fucked up,” Gareth said, “Mom never talked about her parents.”

“Uther wasn't his name,” Guinevere told them, “It's literal translation, horrible, was what everyone called him when he wasn't listening, and it seems it stuck.”

“It's a good thing,” Bedivere said slowly, as if weighing each word before he said it, “that Arthur was raised far, far away from his influence.”

–

_Morgan held the camera so that it was facing her but mostly had Lamorak and Gaheris in the frame. They were seated on opposite ends of a couch, looking away from each other. Gaheris was holding something against his eye socket and Lamorak seemed to have a large bruise forming on the back of his neck that wrapped around to the sides, or at least the side that was facing the camera._

_“So, entry number one,” Morgan's voice was pitched in a way a mother might pitch her voice when reviewing a lesson a small child learned after doing something they were told explicitly not to and were far more embarrassed than hurt, “We've learned a hard lesson here in the rental house, and first and foremost it's that regardless of what something looks like, jumping to conclusions isn't going to help anything.”_

_Behind her, Lamorak made a very unhappy sound._

_“Two, we learned that what autonomy involves has evolved through the ages, and sometimes a widowed queen had to at least look like she was still taking lovers in order to be seen as someone who was engaged in her own life and court.”_

“What?” Gareth choked out as the blood drained from his face.

“Sounds about right,” Guinevere shrugged, “Hell, even if she _wasn't_ widowed, if she wasn't at least suspected of having an affair her whole ability to produce heirs was called into question.”

“That makes no sense,” Geriant seemed oblivious to Gareth's situation.

“It doesn't,” Guinevere agreed, “but bring a woman with power in a place where woman aren't expected to be able to handle power at all is a tricky thing on the best of days.”

_“And third and finally,” Morgan shifted the camera so she was much more in the frame, “if anyone decides they know who should and should not be sleeping with who better than the people who may or may not be sleeping together, they're going to get their asses handed to them.”_

_“I wasn't even trying to fight!” Lamorak interrupted, “Either time!”_

_“Yes, well, nor was Gaheris when he died, and you see how well that played out for him,” she snapped._

_The video feed cut off as Gaheris began yelling._

“Wow,” Galahad managed.

“Maybe I should start screening these first,” Bedivere closed the laptop everyone was gathered around

“No,” Gareth was shaking, “please don't.”

“If you're sure,” Bedivere turned to look at him, “You don't seem sure.”

“Suddenly not quite sure of anything,” Gareth managed to say, “I'm going to go take a walk.”

“If you're going into the woods, stay on the path,” Guinevere told him, “Seriously. On. The. Path.”

Gareth nodded and was gone, the front door nearly slamming behind him,

“What was that about?” Gariant asked.

“Oh, right, you would have missed that,” Bedivere said as he put his forehead on the table, “Long story short, Gareth and his brothers thought Lamorak and Morgause were sleeping together, thought they caught them red-handed, but judging by the video they were wrong and they killed their mother to preserve her honor or some really twisted logic along those lines over nothing.”

“And they're stuck in a house together?” Geriant didn't mean to raise his voice.

“If the next log from them is anything even close to that,” Guinevere said more to Bedivere than anyone else, “we're getting them repatriated to the country whether they plan on it or not.”

“They may had to spend two weeks in isolation,” Bedivere pointed out.

“May be good for them,” Guinevere shrugged, “Morgan's more than capable of getting herself, Dinadan, and Palamedes back in without a problem if that's the case.”

Bedivere sat back up with a deliberate slowness. “You are even more crafty this time around,” he told her.

“How are you two so calm about this?” Galahad asked, a tremor in his voice.

“Camelot, for all its good and promises,” Guinevere scratched at her scalp just above her ears for a moment as if to try to ward off a tension headache, “had **a lot** wrong with it, and even more wrong with it when you hold it to modern standards.”

“It had a _power for power's sake_ history,” Bedivere added, “and Arthur did everything he could to thwart that.”

“It backfired, mostly,” Guinevere just sounded sad, “and really, when Camlann managed to off everyone but one,” she looked to Bedivere, who already had his head back on the table, “it did more good than harm, in the long run.”

“Not to say mass slaughter is ever a good option,” Bedivere was quick to add, “but yeah. There was a whole lot of _generally fucked up shit_ going on in and around Camelot.”

“And yet, we're back,” Galahad suddenly sounded a little resentful of that fact, “If there was so much bad and, as you put it, fucked up shit going on, why us?”

“Because there's a spirit to this group that endures,” Bedivere said cryptically, “and if we learn from our mistakes, both from this life and the other one, there's a chance that spirit will finally be able to do what it needs to.”

“He's terrifying,” Galahad said in a stage whisper. Geriant bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.

“I'm going to go check on Gareth,” Bedivere said, “If my phone rings and it's Kay, tell him what happened and where I am, yeah?”

“Of course,” Galahad said.

–

_“Okay, so,” Morgause said into the camera, “I honestly think my favorite thing about this trip is that the streets are empty. I know, I know, epidemic-pandemic deal going on, and I know, it's worse than the flu or the plague and all that, but did you know there's no one around to stop you from just up and touching the shrines to take little magic samples?”_

_As if to prove a point, she held up a small glass jar._

_“Morgan would be so proud that I finally learned how to do that!” she exclaimed, “Anyways, the rest of the group is, well, in four other places. I think we **may have** accidentally had Lancelot go talk to a bunch of mobsters to see about a sword? Anyways, I'm sure he'll be fine! He's a big boy!”_

“This is the same group that loses it over toilet paper directions,” Bedivere paused the video.

“The other three with us lost it over toilet paper directions,” Guinevere pointed out, “Which, did you wake them for this as well?”

“No,” Bedivere shook his head, “and unless any of them can read magic, I don't see why we can't show them over breakfast.”

Guinevere made a sound that could have been interpreted any number of ways. Bedivere hit play.

_“So, the hope is, I get some magic samples, Lancelot tracks down this sword we overheard some people talking about, Yvain really wanted to see these temple lions, which I'm pretty sure are dogs,” she cleared her throat, “Ragnelle said she has her own plans for the next two days and will tell us when she's back, which honestly sketches me out a bit. Iseult went shopping, but I feel like she **also** has her own agenda. I don't know why they both feel the need to be secretive,” she sighed, “I'd hoped we could all at least try to figure out who we are this time, as people who had, on average, two **decades** to become entirely new people before the memories started to set in, but I guess not.”_

_She turned around for a moment, the camera turning the other way._

“Pause,” Guinevere said.

“Yokai?” Bedivere asked. Guinevere nodded.

“Looks like they're...just watching her,” Guinevere managed to keep her voice level, “When did **you** learn magics, anyways?”

“A funny thing happened when I threw a sword in a fucking lake at my king's request,” Bedivere hadn't meant to sound so bitter about it. Guinevere made a sympathetic noise and gave him half a hug. He sighed and put his head on her shoulder. “Thanks,”

“No one ever asks you about what you sacrificed for Camelot,” she mentioned.

“Because they know I wouldn't tell them,” he hit play.

_“Anyways, I'll try to temper my disappointment, but it just seems,” she paused as if searching for the word, “unfair isn't right, because fair is a scale set to make someone feel better about themselves. But, well, more like a **chance** , I guess._

_“So, yeah, lots of magic, some rumors, maybe a lion or a dog,” she sighed, “I really don't know what to say for this, but hopefully it's what you're looking for.”_

_She shut the camera off._

“More than you realize,” Bedivere said as if she could hear him.


	4. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing about plans is they have a way to show you exactly what you're missing.

_Enid held the camera as far away from her face as he could manage, a small cottage in what appeared to be a wooded area behind her. Despite being the only one in the frame, she kept the majority of the frame focused on a fire pit that seems perhaps fifteen feet behind her._

_“Wait for it,” she said quietly, “wait, wait...alright, GO!”_

_The first pit ignited._

_“YES!” Kay's was loud enough to have been right next to her, but when Enid tilted the camera a little further up, it was clear he was nearly twenty paces behind the fire pit, “Did you get it??”_

_“I got it!” she called back, “We are currently somewhere in the middle of nowhere, South Carolina, at someone's private property where Kay's been honing his fire magics all morning and we have finally, finally got it in the fire pit!”_

“There's an implication there were takes before that,” Galahad said.

“Knowing Kay, absolutely,” Bedivere pinched the bridge of his nose.

_“WE GOOD?” Vivian called from somewhere off-screen._

_“Absolutely!” Kay called back, “We can get lunch started!”_

_“There's an implication that, had it taken him much longer, we wouldn't have just started a fire like a normal human and cooked lunch on that,” Enid said directly into the camera, “Which, we have access to a perfectly good kitchen, but, really, if there's a chance to cook everything over the fire, then **why not**? Anyways, I'm not going to miss lunch, but we're only here for a day or two and then headed up to some folklore institute to see what they have to suggest as far as places of interest. Seems better than, say, throwing darts at a map or something.”_

“That's,” Bedivere sighed, “not how I would have gone about it.”

“Is he always like this when he's not working?” Gareth asked.

“Oh, no,” Bedivere assured him, “He's normally much more reckless.”

“You're both terrifying,” Geriant informed him. Bedivere shrugged, unbothered.

“They definitely have the most ground to cover,” Galahad drummed his fingers on the table, “Should we have sent two groups to the States?”

“Eh,” Guinevere was headed for the kitchen, “if they get worried, they'll split up. Headstrong, the lot of them. Tea?”

“Please,” all four said in unison.

–

_“So,” Elaine whispered into the camera, “it's day four of the quarantine and we have a bit of a problem. I started filming two rooms over so they wouldn't hear me, but, well,” she switched the camera so the forward-facing camera was on instead and walked slowly, quietly._

_“It's hardly my fault!” Tristan had his arms crossed._

_“What, that you couldn't keep it in your pants for one more goddamned night so **I** had to suffer from your lack of impulse control??” Brangadine was furious, almost circling Tristan._

_“I still have no idea what that means,” Tristan looked around as if to make sure he wasn't backing himself into a corner._

_“Of course you don't,” Brangadine spat, “You were so single-mindedly focused that you didn't think for a second she'd send her handmaiden in her place, did you?”_

_“That she WHAT?” Tristan's arms fell to his side._

_Judging by the next few seconds, Elaine ran out of the room._

_“Okay,” she turned the camera back around to face her, the shouts from at least one room over still audible, “not at all how I was expecting that to go and you know what? If what sounds like happened, happened, then she has every right to be furious, but it sounds like Tristan wasn't informed._

_“But, yeah, we have a problem and we're afraid to go outside because none of us speak enough Italian to be able to explain ourselves if we get stopped. I know we had things to do, and I know at least Arthur and Mordred have some hope of still getting it done, but we need to get out of here.”_

“I strongly dislike that,” Galahad said as soon as the clip ended.

“Same,” Bedivere's eye twitched, “Gwen?”

“I'll talk to Arthur,” she sighed, “and I'll make sure it seems unrelated.”

“Thanks,” Galahad told her.

“Some really fucked up shit,” Gareth echoed Bedivere's assessment from the day before.

“Mmhmm,” Bedivere nodded.

–

_Lancelot had clearly been running recently. He had stray hairs clinging to his forehead, an almost obscenely large sword resting over his shoulder and, perhaps most perplexingly, he was clearly filming in a bathroom mirror with the camera pointed at the mirror,_

_“So,” Lancelot sounded proud of himself, “I don't speak enough Japanese to know **exactly** what took place, but I'm pretty sure I won this in a game of pool and also pretty sure I've been cursed by, like, at least three priests. They seemed rather attached.”_

_Lancelot paused to shift the sword a little, the edge dangerously close to his neck._

_“I'll give it back tomorrow,” he continued, “However, it's being given back by courier and it's being given back without its scabbard because _that_ is what I was actually playing for.”_

_He put the sword down gently, if not precariously balanced on the edge of the sink, and leaned down to pick up something that remained off-camera._

_“This fucker,” he said as he brandished the scabbard in question, “seems to be immune to time itself. I'll carry it back because we are **not** losing this again.”_

_He put the scabbard down, too, and clearly struggled to find the button to cut off the recording for a few seconds._

Galahad groaned and covered his face with both his hands.

“I keep expecting bad news,” Gareth said quietly, “or finding out more about how wrong everything was.” His voice was small, defeated.

“Well fuck me,” Bedivere's mouth was hanging open, so focused on the screen he may well not have heard Gareth at all, “Gwen, is that..?”

“That's it,” she was equally focused on the screen, “Impossible.”

“And yet happening,” Bedivere sat back a little and managed to close his mouth, “Holy fuck.”

“So, uh,” Geriant interrupted, “What's going on and is Lancelot in any danger?”

“Lancelot is always in danger,” Bedivere said reflexively, “but, yeah, perhaps just a touch more than usual.”

“I'll message him and the rest of his group recommending them move locations,” Guinevere said, “and see what can be done about leaving a different paper trail.”

“That much danger?” Galahad squeaked.

“Hopefully not,” Guinevere did not want to outright lie, “but better to be excessively careful when there's stolen timeless and priceless artifacts involved.”

Galahad found he couldn't disagree.

–

_Lamorak and Gaheris were both in the frame, though it wasn't clear who was holding the camera. Gaheris had a black eye and Lamorak was wearing a scarf so exactly wrapped it was clear it was meant to cover the bruise._

_“Day six,” Gaheris hissed more than said, “and we've decided to put aside any lingering disagreements because the entire country of Spain seems to be in an uproar over lockdown.”_

_“We need to get home,” Lamorak's voice sounded strained, almost pained, “like, now, if we want to avoid any complications.”_

_“Hopefully Morgan already sent y'all the email about return plans,” Gaheris said, “but, yeah. It's somehow a little scary, the panic everyone's feeling. Not just us, but around us as well.”_

“That was an abrupt ending,” Bedivere juddled the cursor to make sure he hadn't accidentally paused the thing or it wasn't still trying to load, “huh.”

“Oh, I should check my email,” Guinevere said, “Looks like she sent it to Arthur, who forwarded it to me, and it wound up in my spam folder?” she tapped the screen a few times, “Ah, the amount of images probably has something to do with it.”

Bedivere made a sound that was the verbal approximation of a question mark.

“All the iterary related things are screenshots directly in the email body,” Guinevere sighed, “Oh, well. Looks like they're taking a train and then a ferry and then another train.”

“Flights are probably not an option,” Galahad pointed out, “Should we tell them to head here?”

“I'll give them the choice,” Guinevere sighed, “but also make sure they understand if they stay home, they may be stuck along for a while.”

Gareth tried to convince himself his anxiety spike would self-resolve.

–

“Live video call from Agrivane!” Bedivere called into the living room where everyone else was watching a movie.

There was a brief scrambled to pause it before everyone ran over. Bedivere accepted the call.

_“We can pretend this is just a normal video log, so, day nine,” Agrivane seemed to be in the rafters of a cabin, “We, for some reason, are in the middle of Wyoming instead of anywhere near any institute. In a cabin that's only meant to sleep three._

_“I have rigged a hammock from the higher rafters, so if it breaks in the middle of the night, I'll hopefully be caught in the lower rafters rater than fall to my death._

_“Why am I in the rafters, you may ask? No, let's be fair, nobody asks why I do things. Anyways, things have gotten, uh, a little touchy. I heard what sounded like unnecessary banging in the kitchen a minute or so ago, so it's only a matter of time until they come into the living area – directly below me – and have the exact same argument they've had five times today. I need to record this one so I can make sure someone else hears it._

_Also, I have you on mute because I feel like if they know they're being watched, they'll stop.”_

_He sighed, hit the button to change the direction of the camera and waited._

_“I will let you starve,” Kay's snarl came into the frame before Kay did. Merlin was right behind him._

_“I can cook for myself,” Merlin huffed, “unlike you lot, who can't seem to follow simple directions.”_

_“No,” Kay turned around, looking ready to strike, “ **rape the queen, Uther,** and **drown a fucktonne of babies, Arthur,** are not simple commands. Twisting an entire fucking bloodline to suit your needs because you can't manage your own life and destiny was questionable the first time.”_

_“It was what needed to be done!” Merlein was yelling, too, “You will **never** understand the weight of what needs to be done! You will cow and fail every fucking time because you'd rather focus on your damned feelings.”_

_“The autonomy of others isn't a feeling,” Kay growled._

“We are about to witness a murder,” Bedivere held his breath, “and I don't know whose.”

_Kay clenched and unclenched his face several time, face red, shoulders shaking._

_“And even if we will fail, as you seem so sure we will,” Kay continued, “then let us fail on our own terms! Let us make our own damned choices!_

_Vivian came into the very edge of the frame._

_“And why should I do that?” Merlin demanded._

_“Because, as you keep telling him,” Vivian cut in, “they apparently failed even with your, as you keep calling it, guidance.”_

_“You, too?” Merlin sounded betrayed._

_“Always,” Vivian's voice sounded calm._

_“This is new,” Agrivane said quietly._

“This is bad,” Guinevere said.

“If you're saying that,” Gareth was in the process of sitting down, “it's more than bad.”

_Agrivane's hands weren't steady, and the video feed was shaking as a result._

_“Your days of forcing people's hands with powers that were never meant to be used to strip others of their free will without consequence are over,” Kay was still yelling, “They were over from the moment Arthur's heart stopped beating the first life, and I will be damned if I am going to just stand aside while you scheme again!”_

_Kay took a step closer to Merlin, who disappeared._

_Kay let out a loud, angry breath and headed back to the kitchen._

_“I think you can come down from the rafters now, Agrivane,” Vivian looked up at him, “and besides, if they'd gotten into a fight with magics, _wooden roof beams_ seem like a bad choice for safety.”_

_“I have more control than that!” Kay yelled from the kitchen._

_“Not you I'm worried about!” Vivian called back before looking back up at Agrivane, “Did you need some help?”_

_“Probably,” Agrivane admitted._

_He cut the video call off without saying goodbye._

“Well fuck,” Gareth was the first to say anything.

“Good,” Guinevere said, “I hope he stays gone. I'm calling Igraine and telling her what happened.”

“She'll be relieved,” Bedivere sounded terrified.

Gareth and Galahad looked at each other as if the other one may have answers to questions that had yet to form, then to Geriant who looked equally as confused.

“What now?” Galahad asked no one in particular.

“Now,” Bedivere seemed frozen in his seat, “now, we wait to see who manages to stick their hand in the magical hornets' nest next.”


	5. Cheerful Nihilism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Videos keep getting submitted. Bedivere, Guinevere, and company keep learning new things about their compatriots.

_“Day thirteen,” Clarissant was holding the camera, but it was focused on Bors, “and someone seems to think it's a good idea to go on a hike.”_

_“It's only a hike because someone did not check the fuel levels before telling everyone to get in the car,” Bors sounded amused rather than angry, “so while Gawain tries to find a gas station, we explore.”_

_“It's freezing out here,” Clarissant complained, “I thought I was used to the cold.”_

_Bors shrugged, took off his coat, and handed it to her._

_“Are you sure?” she hesitated._

_“Absolutely,” he assured her, “I **am** used to the cold.”_

_There was a moment where the camera was unsteady, presumably as Clarissant put on Bors' coat._

_“I think it weight half as much as I do,” she said, “but it's so warm!”_

_“Fur-lined,” Bors told her, “You cannot go wrong with fur.”_

_“There are a number of animal rights communities who'd disagree,” Clarissant told him, a mix of fear and confusion in her voice._

_“And a number of cultures whose way of life is going extinct that they'd see die out,” Bors didn't miss a beat, “while they use plastics to simulate the very thing you're wearing.”_

_“What do you mean?” Clarissant asked._

_Bors launched into an explanation of how herding cultures the world over would freeze to death without real furs, forced to give up their way of life if they wanted to live._

_“Death and suffering cannot be avoided,” Bors finished up his near-rant, “but, when looked at critically, the difference between privilege and need are clear.”_

_“I'll need some time to digest all that,” Clarissant told him._

_“Take your time,” he said effortlessly, “This world, the one we've been born into this time, is much more of a complex system.”_

_“Complex system?” Clarissant asked._

_She cut the camera off before Bors could answer._

–

_Brangaine was holding the camera so that about half her face was in the frame and Arthur, Mordred, Elaine, and Tristan sleeping with their backs to each other so they were all sitting up was in the rest of the frame._

_“It's the start of week two,” she said, “and we heard about the Spain group being forced home early. We also heard they're currently under a a two-week home quarantine at Morgan's before they're allowed to go anywhere else, so I can only imagine how well that's going.”_

_She walked into another room – it seemed to be some sort of makeshift dining room – and sat down before re-centering the frame so her face was fully in it._

_“It was rough last night,” she continued, “one of our neighbors seemed to have some sort of breakdown. There was screaming and more screaming and the police had to get involved. None of us speak Italian so we have no idea what was going on, which only made it more frightening,” she paused, “Or maybe less frightening, really, depending on what was being screamed, but I'm leaning towards more._

_“Anyways, none of us got much sleep last night, and they seem to have just crashed like that in the living room. It's oddly sweet but also worrisome,” she sighed, “I think we need to come home, but I have no idea how to bring that up to them.”_

“Well that's troubling,” Geriant decided.

“Somehow even moreso than Elaine's last video,” Guinevere sighed, “Arthur's so sure the quarentine will be lifted soon.”

“I'll have Mordred talk with him,” Galahad offered more than stated, “Mordred knows how to get through to him.”

“Mordred has the patience of a saint,” Guinevere told him.

“And none of the behaviors to match,” Galahad covered his mouth as soon as the words escaped.

“I don't get it,” Gareth frowned when Bedivere started laughing so hard he had to excuse himself.

“Don't worry about it,” Galahad still had both hands covering his mouth, so it came out a little muffled.

–

_It was Kay's turn to hold the camera. Enid, Vivian, and Agrivane were behind him. It was night, but the lights around them were so, so bright it looked like an artificial daytime,_

_“So, fun fact,” Kay started._

Bedivere hit pause. “He's drunk,” he sighed, “Y'all are either in for a treat or nightmare fuel.”

No one moved. Bedivere hit play again.

_“There's a hotel in Vegas called The Excalibur and is has **nothing** to do with Camelot or the legends, but if you leave the hotel and start walking down the strip you find even less to do with swords and more people offering you free drinks.”_

_“It seemed like a good idea,” Enid cut in, “Especially after the whole clusterfuck that was Wyoming.”_

_“I don't think Wyoming even has enough people to cluster,” Agrivane pulled a face._

_“Oh sweetheart,” Vivian patted his shoulder, “you really only need one person with a bad idea to make a clusterfuck happen.”_

_“So that's why we're in Vegas!” Kay was either ignoring them or completely oblivious to their rambling, “People here love, love, **love** British and Scottish accents, so I don't think we've ever gotten this much attention in one go.”_

_“Strangers keep asking me to say aluminum,” Agrivane told the camera._

_“There's apparently not a lot of people here right now,” Vivian said, “which is kind of amazing, because I think there are still more people in our hotel than there were in my entire village.”_

_“We're only here for one more night,” Enid said, “then we're going to rent a car or an RV or an SUV or something with letters that mean words and drive.”_

_“We haven't gotten much further than th -oh, fuck,” Kay dropped the camera. Enid made a fumbling dive to catch it, caught it, then nearly fell herself. Kay managed to catch **her** by the waist. Everyone was laughing._

_Enid stood back up, handed the thing back to Kay, and told him not to drop it._

_“I should probably put it back in my pocket,” Kay did just that without stopping the camera. He did, it seemed, hit the screen lock, which cut the feed anyways._

“Wow,” Gareth blinked a few times, “that happened.”

“And they still sent it to us,” Galahad was staring at the black screen.

“Looks like they're having fun,” Bedivere pinched the bridge of his nose, “I wonder if they're actually looking for things or just kind of, I don't know, pulling place names out of a sock.”

“Out of a sock?” Geriant asked.

“Oh what, like you have more hats than socks lying around?” Bedivere countered. Unable to even begin to think of how to reply, Geriant remained quiet.

–

_“Day fifteen,” Yvain was talking but it was clear Lancelot was holding the camera by how part of the frame was blocked off with an errant finger, “we have moved to an undisclosed location on a different island entirely. Morgause is still bouncing between temples to bottle magics while Ragnelle and Iseult have been collecting paper samples for reasons we still aren't sure about.”_

_“I think they just like paper,” Lancelot interrupted._

_“Who knows,” Yvain clearly had other things to talk about, “Anyways, I found this dog and he is **so friendly!** ” Yvain held up a young-looking canine with a much more narrow muzzle than one might expect in a dog. The animal in question was snow white with faint reddish markings that looked almost buried under its fur, “I've started the process to be able to take him home! He follows me everywhere and no one knows where he came from, so he's mine now. Aren't you little fella?”_

_The animal wriggled backwards to lick Yvain's face._

_“You can cut the camera,” Yvain told Lancelot as he tried to avoid getting licked in the mouth or up the nose._

_“Uh,” Lancelot held the camera a little closer to Yvain – a little further away from himself – as if trying to figure which button to press._

_“Red button!” Yvain was having trouble keeping the animal away from his face, “Red bu-”_

“That's a fucking kitsune,” Guinevere said as soon as the video ended, “that is a very, very **young** kitsune.”

“Like a lion wasn't impressive enough,” Geriant muttered.

“Of course he's bringing it home,” Bedivere shook his head, “Well, at least we know.”

“I'm glad they've switched locations,” Galahad was fidgeting with the edges of his sleeves.

“Me, too,” Gaheris agreed.

–

_Dinadan and Palamedes were on opposing sides of the Foosball table, Palamedes with his back to the camera and Dinadan - had he been looking anywhere but the table, would have been facing the camera. They were both so tightly focused on the game than they seemed oblivious to the fact they were being filmed._

_“We're long enough into our return quarantine that I'm starting to lose count of the days,” Morgan said, “but I am glad these two have finally put my table to good use.”_

_“Son of a fuck!” Dinadan exclaimed as he slammed his palm against one of the pole handles, the sound of the tiny plastic ball making its way down the underside of the table loud in the sudden quiet._

_“General cause-and-effect,” Palamedes shrugged._

_“What?” Morgan squawked, not following whatever micro-conversation had just happened._

_“You fuck,” Palamedes said as he put the ball back into play, “you may get son.”_

_“Ew,” Dinadna frowned, “thanks for that image.”_

_“And, wrong on more levels than I care to count,” Morgan added._

_“I said may,” Palamedes reiterated, “there are a number of other outcomes, too.”_

_“Can we not?” Dinadan scrunched up his face._

_“Of course,” Palamedes let it drop._

_They both returned to their hyper-focused state, their wrist movements so subtle and precise that sometimes the camera wouldn't even catch they'd moved, but based on sound alone the ball would hit one of the player pegs and change direction._

_“I'd hate to see what happens when they play chess,” Morgan remarked after a while, “Gaheris and Lamorak are staying on opposite sides of the flat. They claim they've set things aside, but I remain unconvinced. I think they're only behaving because I'm here. I'm going to have to get these two to escort them home, I think, so they don't murder each other on my front steps._

_“It's kind of boring, kind of anxiety-inducing,” she went on, “ **needing** to be inside. We can't even go out to get groceries. We have to get them delivered, have the delivery person leave them on the front steps, and then retrieve them once who ever drops them off is gone. It's so weird and frustrating and isolating, being stuck in my own flat like this. We're lucky, I know, that none of us are sick and if we continue to test negative at the end of two weeks we're free to go, which is more than a lot of people can say._

_“But it's still just...well it isn't **just** anything. It's complicated and nebulous and I just want to be able to walk around my block again,” she let out a frustrated sigh, “It went to shit so fast in Spain. I've been thinking if I want to stay here or come up where the rest of you seem to have stationed yourselves. On the one hand, my own bed and my own flat. On the other hand, if that _does_ happen here, I don't want to be alone indefinitely.”_

_She paused and the camera caught Lamorak walking to the fridge, opeing it, and bending down just enough to stare at the top shelf._

_“Can I help you find anything?” Morgan asked him._

_“Do we have any of the iced coffee concentrate left?” he asked._

_“It's half-ten at night!” Morgan exclaimed._

_“I am aware,” Lamorak was still searching, not bothering to pull his head out of the fridge._

_“If we do it's in the blue pitcher,” Morgan told him, “Transferred it early this morning.”_

_“Ah, thanks,” Lamorak grabbed the pitcher in question and a carton of milk and walked away._

_“I'm not sure if he is going to reuse a cup and just didn't bring it with him or if he's just going to, like, take a swallow from one and then a swallow from the other until one or both are gone,” Morgan didn't care if he heard her or not, “Oh well, it's his sleep schedule.”_

_She sighed and checked the camera to see if anyone else was coming by the kitchen._

_“Anyways, I miss you all terribly and hope you're handling all the waiting to hear from everyone well,” she said, “Take care of yourselves.”_

“Is she alright?” Gareth asked.

“She's exhausted,” Guinevere said, “Can't blame her.”

“It's impressive Dinadan and Palamedes still have so much cheery energy,” Bedivere noted.

“They've always been so focused on the good they can find,” Galahad was standing instead of sitting with everyone else, “even if it's fleeting.”

“All good is fleeting,” Bedivere told Galahad, “but that doesn't mean it should be valued as lesser because of its impermanence. If anything, knowing you only have some time with it makes it even more valuable.”

“Easy on the cheerful nihilism?” Guinevere asked.

“I want to hear more,” Galahad said.

“Me, too,” Gareth nodded.

“I can't tell if I'm curious or frightened,” Geriant didn't look like he was going anywhere.

“It's Saturday,” Bedivere told everyone, “so, chores first, then come back if you're still interested and have the energy to pay attention.”

All three of them scrambled to get started.

“It amazes me,” Guinevere told him, “both how you can look at the void of infinity and smile at it, and how you can convince three people of equal standing to do your share of the housework just by promising them words.”

“I get it from Kay,” Bedivere said with a lazy stretch, “Kay could charm the fair folk themselves out of their coin and cloaks and not once feel fear over the bartering process.”

“I do not want to know how you know that,” Guinevere had a feeling she already knew the answer.

All Bedivere could do was laugh.


	6. Halcyon Days Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's starting to get antsy about being cooped up. Entertainment, sometimes, needs to be manufactured.

_“What day is it?” Clarissant asked._

_“Uh,” Gawain checked his phone, “Tuesday?”_

_“Somehow the least helpful thing you've said since we got here,” she huffed, “Oh, Perc, are you filming?”_

_“Almost always lately,” Percival said from behind the camera, “Why don't you two ever send anything in?”_

_“I sent one in!” Clarissant exclaimed, “It was just Bors and I, but I sent one in!”_

_“I've tried,” Gawain flopped over and sprawled out so he was taking up the entire couch, “I just never know what to say.”_

_“You? At a loss for words?” Clarissant scoffed, “I don't believe it.”_

_Gawain chucked a pillow at her head. She yelped and threw it back._

_“CHILDREN!” Bors' voice boomed from the kitchen, “This is a rental!”_

_“It's just pillows!” Gawain called back._

_“There are breakable things on the walls!” Bors seemed to materialize in the doorway, “Gawain, what's going on?”_

_“Why is it my fault!” Gawain rolled so that he was on his knees on the couch._

_“Gawain, come with me,” Bors commanded, “Percy, cut the camera, will you?”_

Bedivere took in a sharp breath and exhaled much louder than normal.

“That just looks bad,” Guinevere said, “And not the usual brand of bad, either.”

“I don't think Gawain has ever been in one place that many nights in a row,” Bedivere closed the laptop, “or around the same people that many days in a row.”

“Hmn,” Guinevere made a thoughtful but disappointed sound, “Are you going to show it to the others when they wake up?”

“I'm debating,” Bedivere told her as he drummed his fingers on the edge of the table, “On the one hand, it's probably more than they get updated one-on-one.”

“On the other?” Guinevere prompted.

“It seems more private than usual,” Bedivere sighed, a proper sigh this time, “I don't know if Percival didn't realize how telling that clip was or if he wanted to cue us in on Gawain's general state.”

“I'd bet the second,” Guinevere clicked her tongue, “You really need to give Percy more credit.”

Bedivere tried to defend himself, but realized she was right.

–

_The camera came to focus on Agrivane and Vivian, who were sitting cross-legged on the floor facing each other. Agrivane had his back to the camera. Kay's legs could be seen dangling off the bed next to them. They seemed deliberately frozen._

_“They've promised to be good while I explain our situation,” Enid's voice said from behind the camera, “ So we're a little stuck. And by a little I mean very. We're on the eastern part of the States again, some state named after the Virgin Mary? Anyways, there's a travel ban that came down a few hours ago and the rush to the store was **madness**. We've got two motel rooms that have a door between them. They were supposed to have a kitchenette -”_

_“A fucking hot plate and mini fridge is not a kitchenette!” Kay interrupted, “It's a hot plate!”_

_“I'm getting there!” Enid scolded, “So, yeah, we have two hot plates, two mini fridges with no freezers, and two coffee pots. And thanks to managing to find a little strip mall,” she was interrupted by a giggle from Agrivane followed by a loud shushing sound from Vivian, “we have some foods we think we can get away with cooking in the not-kitchenette, an unreasonable amount of things that don't need to be kept cold, and a lot of booze.”_

_“Which is how we got here,” Agrivane contorted his neck so his head flopped back in an attempt to look at the camera._

_“We got here,” Vivian poked him in the kneecap hard enough Agrivane yelped and snapped his head back to face her, “because you referred to tea and leaf water and coffee as bean water.”_

_“I'm not wrong!” Agrivane exclaimed, “You put them both in water and the water changes flavor!”_

_“It's bean juice, not bean water!” Vivian crossed her arms, “Bean water just sounds horrific!”_

_“It's not juice!” Agrivane flailed, “Juice implies the beans were squeezed and liquid came out!”_

_“They can't both be water!” Vivian glared at him._

_“Why the hell not?” Agrivane crossed his arms, a belated mirroring of her posture._

_“Because leaf water and bean juice are for polarizing people!” Vivian was clearly trying very hard to make a compelling argument, “Water versus water lacks the polarizing element!”_

_“But why does it need to be polarizing?” Agrivane whined, “There's an implication in there that coffee and tea drinkers can't get alone.”_

_“You can still pronounce implication,” Kay interrupted, “Here.” A shot glass materialized from outside the frame._

_“Fuck you,” Agrivane said as he took the shot._

_“Not offering,” Kay said with a laugh._

_“So yeah,” Enid sighed, “Here's where we are. We're going to try to figure out a way home, but it may take a hot minute with all the quarantine procedures and such to work around.”_

_“Until then we'll make out own entertainment,” Kay said from off-screen, “And tonight's entertainment is drunk debate with a sober moderator.”_

_“I hope everyone else is safe,” Enid said, “or at least as safe as they can be.”_

“That's,” Galahad blinked a few times, “huh.”

“A sober moderator would have been a great idea the first time around,” Bedivere said,

“Agrivane's a lightweight,” Gareth pinched the bridge of his nose, “There is no way that debate ended favorably for him.”

“Eh,” Bedivere shrugged, “you might be surprised.”

“What **happened** between when you lot were young Knights and my lot were young Knights?” Geriant asked.

Bedivere and Guinevere exchanged a Look that was accompanied by a near-mournful frown.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Guinevere asked.

“With a question like that,” Geriant shivered, “probably not.”

–

_“So we're coming home in two days,” Morgause announced, her face in the frame, “We're actually leaving tonight, but it's going to take two days to get back home.”_

_“We had some trouble with giving the sword back,” Lancelot's voice came from off-screen._

_“That's one way to put it,” Ragnelle chimed in._

_“I gave it back!” Lancelot exclaimed._

_“And then summoned a rain so powerful it nearly drowned everyone,” Morgan was clearly in a different room._

_“I panicked!” Lancelot still sounded panicked, “Who knew I could do that!”_

_“Not you, clearly,” Morgan sounded closer to angry than frustrated. Lancelot made a high-pitched sound not unlike a whine. It was followed by a much more canine whine._

_“Stop fighting!” Yvain called from somewhere else within the house, “You're upsetting the baby!”_

_“I really can't argue that that thing's adorable,” Morgause said, “but I'm really, really not convinced it's a dog.”_

Bedivere hit pause before he said, “No shit.”

“What is it, anyways?” Galahad asked, “Besides some sort of magic being.”

“You can sense magic?” Guinevere asked.

“A funny thing happened when I grabbed a fucking cup,” Galahad's tone made no room for further questions or voluntary information.

“It's a kitsune,” Bedivere said, “and it seems to be very attached to Yvain.”

“Like a lion wasn't impressive enough,” Gareth breathed.

“We ready?” Bedivere asked. Everyone made sounds of agreement, so he pressed play.

_The frame shifted just enough to include the kitsune running across the room, its puppy feet tripping over themselves and tumbling forward._

_“Oh be careful!” Ragnelle said as she scooped the pup up. It licked her nose and she giggled before setting it back down._

_“Have you settled on a name yet?” Morgause asked._

_“Not yet,” Yvain's voice was closer this time, “If I'm not careful he's going to think his name is Puppy.”_

_“It's going to be a long, long trip home,” Morgause sighed, “and we're probably going to have to spend a few weeks isolated to **make sure we didn't bring anything home** or whatever. We haven't decided where we're going to spend it, of we're going to spend it together or alone or what, but we have two days to think about it.”_

_“If we stick together we're not going to mine,” Yvain said, “We won't all fit.”_

“That was an abrupt end,” Bedivere huffed, “Looks like that was big.”

“Go figure my father has magic,” Galahad crossed his arms, “Would have been nice to find out from him directly.”

Bedivere sighed, stood up, and turned around to face Galahad, who only crossed his arms tighter and looked up at Bedivere with something close to a scowl out of place on his normally schooled-to-neutral face. They were near chest-to-chest.

Everyone else backed up a bit. Galahad squared his shoulders without uncrossing his arms, but there was a little give in his expression.

Bedivere hugged Galahad tight.

Galahad uncrossed his arms and rested his head on Bedivere's chest.

“It's not about the magic at all, is it?” Bedivere asked.

“I don't know,” Galahad admitted, “I don't know.” Bedivere just held onto Galahad, letting him go through whatever gauntlet of emotion he was running through in his own head.

–

_“The most interesting things we have in this flat,” Gaheris said from behind the camera, “are how competitive Dinadan has turned out to be, and Lamorak's habit of just drinking straight-up coffee concentrate.”_

_Dinadan, Palamedes, and Morgan were locked in a game of Uno that was going at such a fast speed it seemed like there must have been some stakes they were playing for._

_Gaheris panned to the couch, where Lamorak was sitting cross-legged in the middle of it, pitcher of coffee concentrate in his hands, zoned out more than watching the television set._

_“It's amazing he still has a stomach lining,” Gaheris said before panning back to the Uno game, “If I've kept track of days correctly, there are five days left before we can leave the flat, but from the sounds of things that's not going to do much good. What, we all go back to our own places and spend who knows how long alone? Who would have guessed we'd be stuck for so long?”_

_“UNO!” Dinadan yelled. The camera went shaky – Gaheris clearly startled at the yell._

_“Fuck!” Palamedes swore._

_“Not yet!” Morgan clearly put down a card that made Dinadan pick up more cards judging by the string of swears._

_Gaheris sighed and cut the feed._

“Holy shit,” Gariant said, “Who'd've thought Dinadan was so competitive?”

“Oh, that's mild,” Bedivere chuckled, “If you want to see just how competitive he can get, challenge him to something that requires movement.”

“Really?” Gareth asked, “His reputation said otherwise.”

“He detested convention of any sort,” Guinevere's voice held a fondness that was nearly a private thing, “but he was exactly what we needed when we needed him.”

“Once day,” Gareth said slowly, “one day I want to know what Camelot was like in its halcyon days. Just not...not yet.”

Guinevere and Bedivere exchanged a Look that left Gareth with even more questions.


	7. Redirection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have a chapter of hopeful-sad father-son feels ft. Galahad and Lancelot, with Bedivere as the communal mediator.

They couldn't hear the other end of Bedivere's phone call, but judging by the fact his chuckles had a purring element to them, they guessed he was on the phone with Kay.

“Alright,” a small smile played across Bedivere's face, “Fuck, that's a long time. … Yeah. … I understand. … And that's the most direct flight? … Damn. … Of course I'll tell the others. … Tokyo group's on their way back. … Just Iceland. … No, other houses and flats. … Of course. … Yeah. … Don't to anything to get arrested. … Of course I wouldn't pay your bail. … I love you, too. … Travel well.” He sighed as he ended the phone call.

“So uh,” Galahad's head was tilted to the side, “I take it that was Kay.”

“Yeah,” Bedivere's smile had a sad sort of quality to it, “They're on their way home, but there's a three **day** layover where they're going to be stuck in an airport in Canada and are worried about getting quarantined there even longer if they leave the airport.”

“That's rough,” Geriant winced in sympathy, “Any word from the Tokyo group?”

Bedivere and Guinevere shook their heads.

“They're going to do their best to stay six feet apart from each other,” Bedivere added, “Apparently that's a thing on the outside now.”

“There's a world of extroverts and people whose love language touch who are not coming out the other side of this okay,” Galahad said, “Any word from the Italy group? I haven't heard anything from Mordred in two days.”

“No,” Bedivere frowned, “That's alarming.”

“I'm going to see if there's anything on the news about there area,” Galahad excused himself.

“Is there anything I can do to talk yourself out of that?” Bedivere asked. Galahad shook his head as he walked away.

–

_The image was unfocused but it was clearly Yvain and his not-dog being filmed._

_“Greetings from Egypt,” Morgause said, “Where we were absolutely **not** supposed to be whatsoever, but there were some, uh, we really didn't get a full story from anyone, even the plane crew, so here we are.”_

_The camera came into focus, showing Yvain and the kitsune wrestling with each other, using someone's sock as a toy._

_“They're much more fun to watch than my panicked face,” Morgause added, “So, uh, we kind of lost Lancelot, and I really wasn't sure how to tell anyone. Well, we lost Iseult and Ragnelle as well, but they're at least in a pair._

_“You see, they're only letting two people into the hotel rooms being used effectively as holding tanks, and there was a long line, and Iseult and Ragnelle were the last two into this hotel. Out phones work on WiFi only, and Lancelot's phone is either off on on airplane mode. We can't reach him, he isn't on the directory, and we're just. Scared. Like, I know we give him a lot of shit, but he doesn't speak Arabic and now he's alone in the middle of a world-wide crisis.”_

_“Easy on the doom and gloom,” Yvain suggested, “I hope this isn't the first they're hearing of it.”_

_The kitsune yipped. Yvain ruffled its fur._

_“I hope someone's heard from him,” Morgause sighed, “It's just. Ugh. I don't like not knowing. This isn't like how we split up in Tokyo.”_

_“And he may or may not have the mafia on his tail,” Yvain added, then quickly continued, “Not helping, I know.”_

_“I wonder how the other groups are getting on,” Morgause changed the subject._

_“We should have developed some sort of check-in schedule,” Yvain said._

_“This was supposed to be a month, tops, with a lot of moving around,” Morgause lowered the camera, “Who could have predicted this?”_

Galahad made a pained noise when the video feed cut off.

“I'm going to start screening these,” Bedivere mumbled.

“What, so you can keep us in the dark?” Galahad snapped.

“So I could have told you first, and in private,” Bedivere swiveled in his seat to face Galahad, “So you didn't have to find out **like this.** ”

“Oh,” Galahad said so softly everyone else almost missed it.

“Come,” Bedivere stood up and tapped Galahad on the elbow twice, “we're going on a walk.”

Galahad followed, head lowered.

“Well fuck,” Gareth said as they left.

“How do they manage to attract so much trouble?” Geriant asked.

“It's like our first life all over again,” Guinevere closed the laptop for Bedivere, “only this time it's much, much easier to track someone across the world.”

“One day,” Gareth felt like he'd be saying this often, “I want to know what the hell happened to Camelot.”

–

Bedivere's phone started ringing as he and Galahad walked around the lake on Guinevere and Arthur's property. Galahad had pretty much broken down as soon as they got outside, panic and worry and regret and anger spilling over, this life and the last clashing so violently all Bedivere could do was hold Galahad until the younger Knight could stand on his own again.

He let Galahad just talk and talk and talk as they walked, realizing rather quickly he'd never just _let himself ramble_ before.

They were interrupted when Bedivere's phone started ringing. 

“Uh,” Bedivere looked at Galahad as they both stopped walking, “sorry.”

“Who is it?” Galahad asked. Bedivere pulled the phone out and frowned.

“No idea,” Bedivere stared at the screen.

“Think it's one of those scam calls?” Galahad asked.

“I'm an unlisted number,” Bedivere shook his head.

“Answer it?” Galahad frowned, too.

“Hello?” Bedivere answered the call, “Oh thank fuck, yeah sure,” Bedivere handed the phone to Galahad.

“Hello?” Galahad asked, “Lancelot?”

Bedivere realized he'd never heard Galahad call Lancelot anything besides his name.

“Yeah, we all got the video,” Galahad sniffed even as his affect flattened, “Yeah. … Yeah, they're taking good care of me. … No, just the five of us plus the pets. … Morgan's group is at her flat. … Do you know when you'll be home. … Oh. … Yeah. … Yeah. … Okay, thanks. … Did you want to talk to Bedivere as well? … Alright, hang on,” Galahad handed the phone back to Bedivere.”

“Lance,” Bedivere said as he put the phone to his ear, “I figured it was something like that. … Yeah. … Ah, shit. … No, don't contact the embassy, that'll just take even longer to get you home. … I realize that. … Try calling their hotel and getting their room number. … Any time. … Take care of yourself.”

Bedivere sighed as soon as he ended the call.

“What's going on?” Galahad asked.

“Apparently one of the others has his passport,” Bedivere sighed.

“He didn't tell me that,” Galahad frowned, “I shouldn't be surprised. He called you anyways.”

“He tried to call you first,” Bedivere put his phone back in his pocket, “But when you didn't answer after a few tries, he tried Guinevere, who told him you were on a walk with me.”

“Oh,” Galahad sat down on the damp ground. Bedivere sat next to him. “Your pants look expensive.”

How Galahad managed to sound so sad and so serious at the same time was beyond either or them.

“Thrift store,” Bedivere shrugged.

“Really?” Galahad finally looked up at Bedivere, who nodded, “How?”

“People often get rid of things because they get bored of them,” Bedivere said, “They're perfectly good otherwise.”

“I just get overwhelmed,” Galahad admitted, “There's so much and no rhyme or reason to any of it.”

“Oh, I just send Kay,” Bedivere told him with a small grin, “The man's freakishly good at finding what he's looking for at any shop.” Galahad managed a small laugh.

“I just never felt close to anyone the first life,” Galahad picked a blade of grass and began fiddling with it, “Whatever changed between me and Mordred this life, while I'd never come anywhere close to complaining, I don't understand it and it seems limited to Mordred.”

Bedivere cocked his head to the side, face soft and eyes gentle.

“Oh,” Galahad wiped his eyes, “I'm crying again. Why am I crying again.”

“Come on up,” Bedivere suggested as he rose to his feet. He offered Galahad a hand up. Once Galahad was back on his feet, Bedivere hugged him again.

“I'm not used to kindness,” Galahad said at the same time he had the realization.

“Kindness was a dangerous thing for a long time,” Bedivere told him, “It marked who was easiest to go for when someone was trying to weaken the court.”

“But you and Kay...” Galahad pulled back a bit so he could try to read Bedivere's face.

“Had been together since we were old enough to have a concept of what being together meant,” Bedivere tried to explain, “and second to the King and Queen themselves were already the most powerful figures in Camelot.”

“What happened?” Galahad asked.

“I am a bit too sober to get into that,” Bedivere frowned, “but if you're sure you want to know-”

“If it's not a sober story then I'm not sure right now,” Galahad interrupted before letting himself relax against Bedivere, “I wish I knew what to do.”

“Do what you feel is right,” Bedivere encouraged him, “Not the right thrust upon you by circumstance or fate, but what you **feel** is right.”

“That sounds complicated,” Galahad frowned. Bedivere let the younger Knight go and they started the long walk back to the house.

“It is until you feel it for the first time,” Bedivere said, “then it's so easy and so obvious you often ask yourself how you missed it.”

One day, Galahad vowed, he'd get the full story of what the hell happened to Camelot, to the Knights of the Round Table.

But perhaps not today.


	8. Phone Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are some private phone calls, things the cameras do not get to capture but are so, so important to everyone.

Kay's phone woke both him and Agrivane.

“Sorry,” Kay said as he grabbed the thing and stepped onto the tiny patio, “Hello?”

_“Hey you,”_ Bedivere said on the other end of the line, _“Sounds like I woke you up.”_

“You did,” Kay said with a yawn, “but don't you dare tell me you'll call back later.”

_“Is everything alright?”_ Bedivere asked

“Yeah,” Kay sighed, “Just, tired of being cooped up all the time, you know?”

_“Not in the same way you do,”_ Bedivere told him, _“How is everyone holding up?”_

“Restless, mostly,” Kay's frown was audible, “There really is no sleep schedule and there's only so much we can do in terms of food and entertainment before it's just pizza and soda and beer.”

_“We've eaten worse,”_ Bedivere had meant it to be encouraging.

“Were that we were still in college,” Kay shook his head, “Is everything alright on your end?”

_“Ehh,”_ Bedivere wasn't going to gloss over anything, _“Galahad's having the hardest time, I think. The video diaries have, well, at one point Lance went missing in Egypt for a few hours and we haven't heard from the Spain team in a few days.”_

“Egypt?” Kay said a little too loudly before continuing, quieter, “And what do you mean, haven't heard from them?”

_“They were coming home and got redirected, Lance got shuffled to another hotel and his phone died but his charger wasn't in his bag,”_ Bedivere tried to explain, _“And unfortunately I mean just that – we haven't gotten anything from them for days.”_

“Team-to-team that wouldn't worry me,” Kay's tone and words didn't match up, “But Mordred's on that team and I didn't think he and Galahad ever went more than a few hours without talking.”

_“Doesn't help that he's kind of **having to** process some things that would be better done with a therapist,”_ Bedivere's sigh was a heavy one, _“Gareth, too, for the processing. Geraint just seems lost and Gwen's, well, Gwen.”_

“Keeping it together for the team but really needs to be told it's okay to not be entirely alright?” Kay guessed. On the other end of the line, Bedivere made an affirmative noise, “I miss you.”

_“I miss you terribly,”_ Bedivere told him, _“What are the odds?”_

“Given how the universe seems to have been determined one way or another to fuck us over from before Arthur's conception, high,” Kay's words had a growl to them, “But, we'll be alright.”

_“Will **you** be alright, Kay?”_ Bedivere would have liked to lead with that question, but he knew leading with it would have just closed off some part of Kay that was still wounded from their first life.

“I want to be home,” Kay admitted, “I know it's like this everywhere, but it would be better at home. With you.”

_“As soon as you get a plane back here I'm camping out in the car at the airport,”_ Bedivere informed him.

“I'd expect nothing less,” Kay managed a small chuckle, “What about you? Are you doing alright?”

_“As alright as I can be,”_ Bedivere answered honestly, _“The video project is keeping me busy, plus I'm working from Gwen's, so there's everyone else around to keep me distracted.”_

“It was smart of you,” Kay yawned again, “getting everyone to one place before everything became a shitshow.”

_“Thanks babe,”_ Bedivere managed a small chuckle.

Kay yawned again, louder.

_“Should I let you get back to sleep?”_ Bedivere asked.

“Unfortunately,” Kay grumbled, “I'm going to try again today to see what I can do about flights home. I don't want to split the group, thought.”

_“I hate that I agree there,”_ Bedivere said, _“Keep me updated?”_

“Always,” Kay promised.

_“Sleep well,”_ Bedivere instructed, _“I love you.”_

“Love you, too,” Kay smiled, “We'll talk soon.” 

Kay hung up the phone and sat down on the concrete, the sun's first rays just barely beginning to crest over the treeline.

–

Bors' phone was ringing, but he was in the middle of cooking.

“Can someone answer that for me?” Bors called.

“I got it!” Gawain was already running.

“I got it!” Clarissant exclaimed.

“Where's your phone?” Percival asked.

Bors sighed and did not respond, knowing whatever he said would be lost of the the siblings' bickering.

“Here,” Igraine said as she put his phone against his ear so he could cradle it with his shoulder, “I got it!” she called. The bickering took a sudden turn back towards the outside.

“Hello?” Bors had not seen who was calling, “Hey kiddo.”

_Who is it?_ Igraine mouthed.

_Galahad,_ Bors mouthed back.

“Hmn?” Bors said into the phone, “Yeah, it's a good time. … Just Gawain and Clarissant trying to out-helpful each other. … No, why? … Of course not, who told you that? … What do you mean, no one? … You are not no one, Galahad. … You're not a bother. … What's going on. … … … Oh kiddo. … I don't think it's ever too late. … It sounds like he wants to. … In person, yes. … I'm proud of you. … Don't forget to eat something. … I will, thank you. … Talk to you later.”

Bors shifted his shoulder so that Igraine took the phone. She found the call had already been ended.

“Is he alright?” she asked.

“He is,” Bors looked around to make sure they were alone, then dropped his voice as low as he could, “having some thoughts surrounding parental reconciliation.”

“Ah,” Igraine nodded, understanding, “I wish I knew how to reconcile with my own children.”

“I cannot pretend to know what it's like,” Bors turned down the stovetop's heat, “but I do know we are all very, very different people this time.”

“I think Morgause is having the most difficult time,” Igraine put Bors' phone down on the counter, “out of my children and grand-children.”

“You Pendragons are a tough lot,” Bors told her, “If there is reconciliation to be done, it will find a way.”

“I hope so,” Igraine's tone was sad despite her words.

–

Galahad nearly knocked several pieces of furniture over in the spring from Guinevere's dining room to the room he'd been sleeping in.

“Mordred!” he exclaimed as he answered.

_“Oh thank fuck,”_ Mordred sounded like he might cry, _“Long story short we got deported and none of us had access to our phones for, uh, it was a thing and I don't feel like going over it right now. Sorry.”_

“Whatever you're apologizing for, I forgive you,” Galahad was indeed crying, “Are you okay? Are you safe? Where are you?”

_“Shaken but alright,”_ Mordred started answering the questions in order, _“Safe, with everyone else at Elaine's. Hers was closest to where we were released and we have to stay inside for two weeks and then get re-tested for everything before we're allowed to go anywhere.”_

“Well,” Galahad tried to find a plus side, “at least we have a timeline now.”

_“Yeah,”_ Mordred agreed, _“How's da and Gwen's treating you?”_

“It's nice,” Galahad said it like it was a confession rather than a fact, “They have so much land so it's not like we're as restrained as everyone else seems to be.”

_“Two weeks,” _Mordred said, _“and then at least Da and I are coming up there.”___

__“I'll be counting down the days,” Galahad decided._ _

___“My phone doesn't have much charge at all and I was borrowing Tristan's charger,”_ Mordred's frown was audible, _“but I wanted to call you before I started sifting through my stuff.”__ _

__“Alright,” Galahad wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, “I'll tell the others you guys are safe.”_ _

___“Thank you,”_ Mordred told him, _“We'll talk soon. I love you.”__ _

__“I love you,” Galahad sniffed again, “Bye.”_ _

___“Bye,”_ Mordred said as he ended the call._ _

__–_ _

__“Hey!” Dinadan exclaimed into the phone's receiver, “Haven't heard from you since the world shut down.”_ _

___“Bad friend, I know,”_ Iseult rolled her eyes, _“We're back in the UK but it doesn't seem like we're going anywhere else for a while.”__ _

__“Same,” Dinadan told her, “We're all at Morgan's until we're cleared to go home.”_ _

___“Are you going to go home or to the estate?”_ Iseult asked._ _

__“Haven't decided, honestly,” Dinadan told her, “On the one hand, the estate seems like a good way to not be lonely. On the other hand, if everyone else is feeling the same way, it seems like a good way to never have a moment of privacy again.”_ _

___“Isn't Morgan's a two-bedroom flat?”_ Iseult pointed out._ _

__“I've been sleeping on the floor,” Dinadan told her, “next to the bed in the second bedroom.”_ _

___“Who got the bed?” _Iseult asked.__ _ _

____“Palamedes did,” Dinadan told her, “And before you ask your next question, it's a twin bed.”_ _ _ _

_____“Oh, ouch,”_ Iseult winced in sympathy, _“Does he even fit?”__ _ _ _

____“His feet and elbows hang off the edge,” Dinadan tried not to laugh, “Still, it's not the couch or the living room floor.”_ _ _ _

_____“Small blessings, I guess,”_ Iseult shrugged, _“I called Tristan first and apparently they're all at Elaine's.”__ _ _ _

____“Slightly more room,” Dinadan tried to remember if he's been to Elaine's or just heard about it, “Oh, man, I should call Elaine and make sure she's handling this whole **mandatory inside** thing alright.”_ _ _ _

_____“Oh shit,”_ Iseult's face fell, _“yeah, go call her.”__ _ _ _

____“I'm about to,” he told her, “and Iseult?”_ _ _ _

_____“Yes, Dinadan?”_ _ _ _ _

____“You've never been a bad friend.”_ _ _ _

____“Thanks,” Iseult smiled a little, “Now go call Elaine.”_ _ _ _

____–_ _ _ _

____“Hello?” Elaine said as she picked up her phone,” Dinadan! Yes, how are you. … Yeah, we're all at mine. … It's...a bit of a story, and one for later. … Safe, yeah. … I'm alright. … … Ah, yeah. … No, this is so, very different. … Not at all, thank you! … You're sweet. … Hard disagree there. … How's Morgan's? … Oh. … Oh, ouch. Have they sorted it out. … Concentrate? Coffee comes in concentrate. … That sounds both terrifying and impressive. … Tristan and Bran got into one fight, but other than that it's just been some small bickering and snapping. … No, it's almost entirely been self-regulated. … I got lucky with my group. … It'll be nice to see everyone again. … Oh, shit, I'll point that out. … Yeah. … Yeah, you, too. … Take care of yourself.”_ _ _ _

____She put the phone back on the table, a small smile playing across her face._ _ _ _

____“Well?” Mordred asked, feeling nosy._ _ _ _

____“He was worried the quarantine would bring back memories of my imprisonment,” she told him, “Really sweet of him to worry, actually.”_ _ _ _

____“Ah, shit, I hadn't even thought of it,” Mordred frowned, “I'm sorry.”_ _ _ _

____“You weren't even born when all that happened,” she tried to assure him._ _ _ _

____“Still,” Mordred sat across from her at the table, “I feel like I need to be more aware.”_ _ _ _

____“Mmhmm,” she hoped he'd continue on his own._ _ _ _

____“I would have been a terrible king,” Mordred crossed his arms on the table top and rested his chin on them, “if I was this unaware of what those closest to me were going through and unable to help.”_ _ _ _

____“Your awareness already sounds leagues better than mine,” Arthur poked his head in the dining room, “Everything alright in here?”_ _ _ _

____“I'm alright,” Elaine looked at Mordred._ _ _ _

____“Throwing myself a pity party I don't deserve,” Mordred huffed but did not make a move to sit up._ _ _ _

____Arthur put his hand on Mordred's shoulder and squeezed, hoping it was comforting._ _ _ _

____–_ _ _ _

____Enid's phone lit up and began vibrating and she smiled._ _ _ _

____“Hey love,” she said as soon as she was sure she'd answered the call correctly._ _ _ _

_____“Good morning, sweetheart,”_ Geraint's voice was light, _“How's your morning going?”__ _ _ _

____“Slowly,” she said as she stretched, “There's talk of consolidating rooms at the motel where possible, so it may be my last morning with just Vivian as my roommate.”_ _ _ _

_____“How do you feel about that?”_ he asked her._ _ _ _

____“Alright, honestly,” she shrugged, “It'll be cramped and a real test of communication skills, but I trust Kay and Agrivane.”_ _ _ _

_____“Kay's always been trustworthy,”_ he agreed, _“and from the sounds of it, Agrivane's changed quite a bit.”__ _ _ _

____“I think he had a chance to really define himself before we all came together this time,” she guessed, “He's...gentle, really.”_ _ _ _

____“Are we talking about Agrivane?” Vivian asked as she stepped out of the bathroom._ _ _ _

____“Yeah,” Enid told her, “It's Geraint.”_ _ _ _

____“I'll leave you to your call,” Vivian said fondly as she slipped out the back door to go for a jog._ _ _ _

_____“All good?”_ he asked._ _ _ _

____“Very,” she assured him, “But yeah, it'll be cramped but it'll be alright. There's no shortage of entertainment when we all get going.”_ _ _ _

_____“I'd imagine,”_ he said fondly, _“Four of the brightest minds in Camelot in the same room.”__ _ _ _

____“There's a lot less tension since Merlin quite literally disappeared from the room,” Enid sighed._ _ _ _

_____“It sounds like you four have had quite the adventure,”_ Geriant surmised, _“We're still just laying low here. Most of the other groups are back in the UK.”__ _ _ _

____“I'm hoping we can get a flight back soon,” she told him, “I miss you.”_ _ _ _

_____“I miss you terribly,”_ he could not understate that bit, _“Lunch is almost ready. I'm sorry, I should have called earlier. Or later.”__ _ _ _

____“Call me back after lunch?” she suggested._ _ _ _

_____“I will,”_ he promised, _“Love you.”__ _ _ _

____“Love you,” she told him, “now go eat.”_ _ _ _

____–_ _ _ _

____Gwen could not answer the call fast enough for her liking._ _ _ _

____“Arthur thank God,” she almost sobbed, “I've been so worried.”_ _ _ _

_____“I am so, so sorry,”_ he told her, _“It's a long story and still kind of raw, but we're back in the UK and we're unharmed.”__ _ _ _

____“Alright,” she took a deep breath, “Three and a half days, Art!”_ _ _ _

_____“We were a little caught up in deportation,”_ his voice cracked, _“but we're at Elaine's now and in two weeks I'll be able to come home.”__ _ _ _

____“Next time you suggest waiting something out I'm coming to where ever you are and dragging your ass home myself,” Gwen knew she was crying, “I'm glad you're safe, though.”_ _ _ _

_____“I cannot apologize enough for not lightening to you,”_ Arthur meant it, _“My own hubris is not an excuse.”__ _ _ _

____“This is a conversation we need to have later,” she told him, “and in person. I'm just glad you're alright.”_ _ _ _

_____“I understand,”_ he let out a loud exhale that could have been an aborted sign, _“I love you and I'm sorry.__ _ _ _

____“I love you,” she sat down where she had been pacing, “You scared me.”_ _ _ _

_____“I'm sorry,”_ he told her._ _ _ _

____“Just come home safe,” she told him._ _ _ _

_____“I will,”_ he was trying to assure the both of them, _“Ah, shit, Lance is on the other line.”__ _ _ _

____“Pull him into the call,” she told him._ _ _ _

_____“Hey you,”_ Arthur said, _“Gwen's on the call, too.”__ _ _ _

____**“Well aren't I a lucky bastard?”** Lancelot said fondly, **“How are you both?”**_ _ _ _

____“How did you know to call him?” Gwen asked._ _ _ _

____**“I've been trying every few hours, really,”** Lancelot admitted, **“I wasn't expecting to get through this time.”**_ _ _ _

____“Good man,” Guinevere meant it._ _ _ _

____**“Anxious man,”** Lancelot didn't quite mean it as a correction, **“Are you safe, Arthur?”**_ _ _ _

_____“Safe, back in the UK, don't want to talk about what happened just yet,”_ Arthur rattled off several answers at once, _“I miss you both so, so much.”__ _ _ _

____“I miss you both,” Guinevere was trying not to cry hard enough to alert anyone else, “Are you both coming here once you're free to go home?”_ _ _ _

____**“Will you two have me at yours with so many others?”** Lancelot asked._ _ _ _

____“Yes,” Guinevere was quick to answer._ _ _ _

_____“Are you ready, Lance?”_ Arthur asked._ _ _ _

____**“I just want to see you two again,”** Lancelot told them, **“other people around or not.”**_ _ _ _

_____“Then absolutely,”_ Arthur told him._ _ _ _

____“Both of you, stay safe and don't do anything stupid that's going to keep you stuck longer than you have to be,” Guinevere pleaded with them, “Where are you staying, Lance?”_ _ _ _

____**“We're at Yvain's, actually,”** Lancelot said, **“His place was the closest one that met all the two-week restrictions and such, so we didn't want to spend longer than we had to trying to find a place.”**_ _ _ _

_____“Makes sense,”_ Arthur said, _“We're lucky Elaine's had enough space we're not on top of each other.”__ _ _ _

____“Good news is there's plenty of room here,” Guinevere managed a near-laughing sound, “From the sounds of it Kay's coming here once his group gets back.”_ _ _ _

_____“Which groups are still abroad?”_ Arthur asked, _“I called you first so I haven't had time to check my email or texts.”__ _ _ _

____“Iceland and the States,” Guinevere told them, “Iceland group seems content to stay put as long as possible, States are looking for a way home.”_ _ _ _

_____“There's a joke about colonies in there,”_ Arthur was too mentally exhausted to actually find the joke._ _ _ _

____**“Arthur,”** Lancelot groaned. Guinevere gave a more genuine laugh, though, so Arthur called it a success._ _ _ _


	9. Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long stretches of idleness and down time begins to wear on some. Thankfully, there are also plenty who are both willing and able to offer support.
> 
> Also, the home team learns Arson Monopoly is an option for exceptionally long games.

_“He's just so soft,” Yvain was running his hands through his new pet's fur, “I've never felt a dog so soft before.”_

_“So uh,” Ragnelle said from behind the camera, “have you considered that may not be a dog?”_

_“What?” Yvain's attention snapped to Ragnelle and then to the camera, “What do you mean?”_

_“Look at him,” Lancelot said from somewhere off-screen, “I mean, really, really look. What kind of dog has a muzzle shaped like that? Or markings like that?”_

_“Uh,” Yvain seemed to truly take in the animal on his lap for the first time, “Well shit.”_

_“Mmhmm,” Ragnelle said._

_“Why didn't anyone say anything?” Yvain asked, “And what did I bring home? I'm still keeping him.” He clutched the kitsune to his chest, a gesture somewhere between protective and possessive._

_“Pretty sure it's a kitsune,” Morgause said, also off-screen, though she seemed more relaxed than Lancelot, “Seems rather attached to you, though.”_

_“Huh,” was all Yvain could say, “Were you filming specifically to break the news to me that I can't tell canids apart?”_

_“Well, no,” Ragnelle sounded like she was fighting off a laughing fit, “but that is what it's turning into.”_

_“You're filming?” Lancelot asked._

_“Yep,” Ragnelle popped the **p** , “I was going to finally try to capture the fact you fucking levitate when you're reading and start sliding off the chair, but Yvain distracted me.” She swung the camera around just in time to catch Lancelot crashing to the ground, his thumb still acting as a book mark._

_“What and why?” Lancelot groaned as he rearranged himself so he was closer to a seated position than a recently-learned-he-levitates-and-stopped position._

_“Magic,” Morgause told him, “and because you wouldn't have believed us if we had just told you.”_

_“Can't say I was expecting you to even notice Yvain and I were talking,” Ragnelle admitted, “You get so engrossed when you read it's like the rest of the world doesn't exist.”_

_“I heard a crash!” Iseult called from another room, “Everyone alright?”_

_“All good!” Morgause answered, “It's just Lance!”_

_“I told you not to tell him he levitates!” Iseult called back._

_“Goddamnit you lot,” Lancelot grumbled, “This magic thing is getting out of hand.”_

_“You just need training,” Morgause assured him._

_“Who trained you?” Lancelot asked._

_“Morgan, actually,” Morgause told him, “though there are a number in this incarnation of the court who know at least some magic.”_

_“Like who?” Lancelot was genuinely curious._

_“That's for them to tell you,” Morgause's tone became so serious so suddenly that the kitsune let out a small whine, “but the more you learn about your own hold over magic, the more you'll be able to tell without asking.”_

_“Why didn't you say something before?” Lancelot closed his book._

_“I didn't want to tell you before you found out on your own,” Morgause's worry was audible, “That just seemed...wrong.”_

_Lancelot sighed and put his hands over his face for a moment before moving them to run his hands through his hair._

_“It's a lot to think about,” Lancelot finally said._

_Ragnelle cut the camera._

Bedivere put the video back at the start and hesitated before calling Galahad to watch it with him before he showed everyone else.

–

_Kay was sitting in the middle of a king-sized bed, back against the wall, legs crossed, arm raised as if he was about to throw something, eyes narrowed._

_“It's raining and cold so we can't even go out for a run or jog or stroll or whatever pace one fancies,” Enid said from behind the camera, “so we've got all the tabs from the sodas we've had since we came to the motel, an empty tissue box on the desk, and an ad hoc game of skill. Or luck. We can't tell, but the person to get the most in wins.”_

_“So far it's just been Kay,” Vivian added, “but he's half-done and has a score of zero.”_

_“They're so tiny,” Kay said as he threw one, “and so light. They just keep going once you let go.”_

_“One would think with how tiny and light they are, they wouldn't go far,” Agrivane pointed out, “but you've over-shot every single one.”_

_“I carry things near half my weight for a living,” Kay said as he tried to line up his next toss, “It's easy to over-estimate how much force I need.”_

_“Say it like that and catering just sounds terrifying,” Enid informed him._

_A phone's ring interrupted them._

_“Ah damnit,” Agrivane looked towards the sound of the ring, “Mind if I get that?”_

_“Not at all,” Kay said._

_Agrivane had to cross Kay's line of sight to grab his phone. “Hello?” he sounded nervous, “Yes. … Yes. ...No, there is no return date set yet. … There are just no flights that wouldn't take us even longer in quarantine. … Yes. … I understand. Yes. … Alright. … Bye.”_

_He hit the end call and nearly threw his phone. Vivian was able to stop him by catching his wrist._

_“Hey,” she said, “don't.”_

_“I,” Agrivane's voice broke, “fuck.” He let the phone go instead and Vivian let go of his wrist to catch the thing._

_“Agrivane?” Kay put the soda tabs down on the nightstand, “What's going on?”_

_“Work just fired me,” Agrivane said, “No offer to work remotely, no understanding we're stranded in a foreign country, just. Fired me.”_

_“Oh honey,” Enid lowered the camera but did not cut the recording._

_“Fuck,” Agrivane's fists were clenched and he was pacing, “Fuck. I can't afford this. I can't not have a job to return to. I. **Shit.**_

_Enid managed to raise the camera again, more focused on Vivian. It was clear the two of them were exchanging a **what do we do** look._

_“Agrivane,” Kay's tone was firm but not harsh, “come here.”_

_Vivian indicated the other two with a jerk of her head and Enid shifted so they were in frame._

_Agrivane let out a noise of frustrated reluctance but came to stand next to the bed._

_“Here,” Kay patted the bed next to him. Agrivane looked like he wasn't going to sit down for a moment, but Kay's no-room-for-debate tone won out over whatever was going through Agrivane's head._

_Kay waited until Agrivane was seated, legs out in front of him and arms crossed, hands still in fists, face red and eyes cast down._

_“What do you need?” Kay asked him._

_“What do I need?” Agrivane repeated, indignant, “I need to pay bills! I'd like a roof over my head! I need a job for both those things! I can't even start looking for a new one because I'm stuck in a country we didn't even know existed last time around and-” he broke off, a single sob escaping._

_“Do you touch?” Kay asked._

_“Touch?” Agrivane asked, the indignant tone gone, a terrified one having replaced it._

_Kay sighed and put an arm around Agrivane. “Come 'ere.”_

_Even on camera, Agrivane froze, his entire form visibly tensing up before he let himself crumble. Kay brought Agrivane closer to him, something more resembling a hug than an awkward half-hearted attempt at comfort. Agrivane let him, crumbling the instant his face came into contact with Kay's shoulder. He drew his legs up and to the side, curling in on himself._

_Vivian crawled on the bed and managed to squeeze herself onto the edge so she could brace Agrivane's other side._

_The video cut off as Enid was trying to find a way into the comfort pile._

Gareth made a strangled sort of sound and Bedivere was up and hugging him in an instant.

“I've never seen him like that,” Gareth sighed, “Normally he gets angry and he can't be stopped until he comes down on his own, but I've never thought of-” he stopped as Bedivere hugged him a little tighter, “Okay, yeah, I see why this works. I feel like a shitty brother.”

“You're learning,” Bedivere tried to reframe whatever was going through Gareth's head, “and you're starting to unlearn a lot of what you needed to learn to survive your first life.”

“Not to ruin the moment,” Galahad had a feeling he was doing just that, “but did you just teleport from your chair to Gareth?”

“Probably,” Bedivere resisted the urge to shrug.

–

_“The rent I pay for having a loft is bloody insane,” Morgan said from behind the camera, “but it is so, so worth it to get to see things like this.”_

_She panned the camera to where Lamorak was standing in the living room with a ping-pong paddle in one hand, eyes looking upward, waiting._

_A ping-pong ball came down from above and he hit it back the way it came. Almost instantly, there was a sound of a return hit and a yellow-white streak coming back towards Lamorak._

_“I don't even know where they found it,” she said, “but they've decided the loft is unfit for sleeping but very fit for two-story tableless table tennis.”_

_“I am impressed,” Palamedes said from somewhere behind her, “and also terrified.”_

_“Both of their aim and response time border on inhuman,” Gaheris added, “though I think Dinadan has the advantage. There's a lot more living area than there is loft access.”_

_“He seems to be interested in keeping to going more than winning,” Morgan noted._

_“I can say yes, absolutely,” Palamedes said, a fond thing, “Dinadan would rather play a long game and lose than win a short-lived game.”_

_“Sounds like you know from experience,” Gaheris snorted a laugh._

_“If you ever want to spend several days doing the same thing,” Palamedes advised, “challenge them to a game of Monopoly.”_

_“ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT THE ALPS INCIDENT?” Dinadan called from the loft._

_“Them?” Gaheris asked, “Well now I just feel like an asshole.”_

_“ABSOLUTELY!” Palamedes called back, then more quietly to Gaheris he added “Just correct yourself moving forward.”_

_“STILL SAY THE FIRE WAS NOT MY FAULT!” Dinadan said as he hit the ball back downstairs. Lamorak, on-screen, missed the ball entirely._

_“How the **hell** does a game of Monopoly end in fire?” Lamorak asked, dumbfounded._

_“Cut the camera,” Palamedes said, “Just trust me.”_

“Well evidently she trusts him,” Guinevere remarked, “but next time I see any of them in-person I'm asking for the rest of the story.”

“Arson sounds like a perfectly reasonable response to a week-long game of Monopoly,” Geraint said.

“Remind me to make sure you lot play board games outside,” Guinevere told them. She was laughing, though, so Monopoly-induced arson wasn't completely off the table.

–

_Mordred was sprawled out on the kitchen counter, awake but his general affect was flat, almost despondent._

_“Uh,” Tristan said from behind the camera, “I understand why the general sadness, but why on the counter?”_

_“I've spent too much time on the floor,” Mordred didn't move as he responded, “Did you need the counter space?”_

_“Nah,” Tristan told him, “Just, curious, I guess. Is it comfortable?”_

_“Not really,” Mordred admitted, “The stagnation's just getting to me, you know?”_

_“Yeah,” Tristan agreed, “I miss Iseult.”_

_“I miss Galahad,” Mordred rotated his head so he was looking at Tristan, “You're filming?”_

_“I can stop and/or delete it if you want,” Tristan offered._

_Mordred paused before he said, “Nah. What was the phrase Bedivere used in the request? Video diary?”_

_“I think so,” Tristan's shrug was felt in his answer, “Why?”_

_“Aren't diaries supposed to be raw and uncensored?” Mordred finally moved to start sitting up, “I don't know, I never kept one growing up and I've been terrible about actually keeping up with any sort of journaling as an adult.”_

_“I've never tried,” Tristan admitted, “I hear it's supposed to be good for you.”_

_“It is,” Mordred said as he came to a proper sitting position, still on the counter, “and I'd like to do it I just. Have so many hang-ups from before I left home.”_

_“You never really talk about it,” Tristan sounded like he was afraid of actually asking a question, “Not in front of the group, at least.”_

_“I don't,” Mordred grimaced, a momentary frown that was gone as quickly as it came on, “It wasn't as bad as some of the others had, from what I can gather, but it was...there was no privacy, no trust, you know?”_

_Tristan made a sound of agreement._

_“And it's not that I don't trust Galahad,” Mordred continued, “because I do. With my life and then some. It's just...habits are hard to break.”_

_“I'd call it trauma more than habit,” Elaine said as she entered the kitchen, “Sorry, am I intruding?”_

_“Not at all,” Mordred assured her, “this **is** your house.”_

_“Doesn't mean the rest of you aren't entitled to have privacy,” she said effortlessly, “We've all had a hell of a time and have nine and a half days before we decide where we're going to go for an indefinite period of time. I don't want anyone to feel like they have to skitter around.”_

_“Thanks,” Mordred said weakly, “It does mean a lot.”_

_“Of course,” she assured him, “It's the least I can do.”_

_“It still means a lot,” Mordred repeated him, “I'm just being sad over no having seen Galahad for like. I don't even know how many days.”_

_“That's more than understandable,” Elaine's words were kind things, almost like gifts being presented without expectation, “You two have grown so close and have done so, so much for each other and it shows.”_

_“I,” Mordred hesitated, “Can you cut the camera?”_

Next to him, Bedivere felt Galahad's shoulders drop.

“I just got off the phone with him,” Galahad said quietly, “but thank you for showing me this first. And the other one, too.”

“Of course,” Bedivere tried to sound empathetic, “of course,” the second time was more gentle, more sincere.

“It's all so much,” Galahad's eyes were unfocused, head dropped down just a bit, “Mordred and being apart from him and...and also whatever's happening with La-with my dad.”

“I can imagine,” Bedivere told the younger Knight.

“I honestly expected everyone's trips to be over by now,” Galahad gripped the sides of his seat, “I expected Mordred to be home and to be at out little flat with the pets and our normal work-Round Table schedule balance and,” he sighed, a heavy thing, “I was going to propose, when he got back, and now I'm just stuck here waiting and realizing I've excluded my father from my life and it's,” he stopped talking as his head dropped even lower.

“Hey,” Bedivere said gently as he knocked his shoulder against Galahad's, “stay with me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Galahad shook his head as if to clear it, not entirely dissimilar to an Etch-a-Sketch, “Sorry. It's just. It's just a lot and I'm scared he'll want to go back to the flat and if we do we have no idea when we'll be able to leave again and I'd imagine it would be weird to effectively move in with your parent, with a parent and a step-parent? I really don't know how all that works and I know I'm rambling but I'm afraid to bring it up with him because what if he does want to go back to the flat? What if we can't have a Round Table meeting for **months**? What is Lance..what if my dad decides to stay here too? Oh God, I don't know if you've even thought or suspected or-” Galahad turned to look at Bedivere, his eyes wide, almost fearful, “Shit, my future father-in-law is your brother-in law. It's such a web. Shit.”

“Slow down a tad,” Bedivere tried to sound more encouraging than instructional, “What are you afraid of, in this moment?”

“That I just kind of insinuated I think my father and my boyfriend's father are in a relationship with the woman whose house we're staying in,” Galahad said quietly.

“Honestly?” Bedivere couldn't help the grin that crept onto his face, “Kay and I have a bet as to when and how they're going to go public with it.”

“Have they told you?” Galahad's eyes managed to go even wider.

“Oh, no,” Bedivere shook his head, “Kay just has a sense about things and when he mentioned it to me, it made sense.”

“Okay because Mordred and I have the same bet going,” Galahad's relief was a flood of emotions playing across his face.

“If I can do it discreetly, do you want to merge betting pools?” Bedivere asked.

“Absolutely!” Galahad was thankful for how natural the conversation suddenly felt, “I'll ask Mo about it when I can.”

Bedivere could tell having Galahad as a nephew was going to be an endless source of entertainment and side deals.

–

_Gawain's face was in half the frame, Bors and Percival on the couch behind him took up the rest of the frame. Bors was reading and Percival was tucked under one arm, asleep._

_“What's going on here?” Gawain asked, “It's, like, three in the morning_

_“Nightmare,” Bors said without taking his eyes off the page._

_“Well now I just feel like a jerk,” Gawain's face fell, “I just haven't seen, well, this before. This is an option for nightmare remedies?”_

_“If it's what you need,” Bors glanced up._

_“I don't know what I need,” Gawain lowered the camera but kept talking, “Most of them aren't even related to this life.”_

_“Come tell me about them,” Bors slid the front flap of the book's dust jacket over the page he was on and then shut the book._

_Gawain, judging by the camera's motion, came to sit on Bors' other side._

_“It's every bad decision I've ever made, most nights,” Gawain's voice was different, almost younger and vulnerable all of the sudden, “in a montage, pretty much. But sometimes it's more specific things, moments I wish never happened, or at least I could have left behind with death. Sometimes they're abstract, like I'll be stuck in a basement or something and there's water pooling around my ankles. Only I'll realize it's not water, it's blood, and the level will rise so quickly and I just know I'm going to drown in it.”_

_The sound of Bors' unhappy noise and the rustling of fabric suggested Gawain curled up under Bors' other arm, similar to Percival's sleeping position._

_“I'm supposed to be strong and unyielding and able to face anything but it just feels like I'm going in circles and not doing anything but wear down the ground I'm walking,” Gawain said, quieter now, “I want to be someone better but there's nothing I know how to do that makes me worthy of being at the Table this time.”_

“Damn,” Guinevere breathed, “I am glad he sent it, but damn. Also, do you sleep?”

“Only lightly,” Bedivere sounded exhausted, “Just got off the phone with Kay, actually, when I saw it had come in.”

“So late?” she asked, “Early?”

“Yeah,” Bedivere's sigh was a heavy one, “apparently it took a while to calm Agrivane down. Largely having trouble accepting the emotional support and in desperate need of someone to just hold him and let him feel things.”

“That's the Kay we knew behind closed doors,” Guinevere said.

“Yeah,” a tired smile tugged at the corners of Bedivere's mouth.

“Hmn,” Guinevere made a thoughtful-yet-noncommittal sound, “I am thankful for Bors.”

“He's always been so patient and understanding,” Bedivere agreed, “I wish there was something I could do to help, though.”

“You've always looked out for everyone,” Guinevere said fondly, “I hope you have someone looking out for you.”

“I do,” Bedivere smiled, a warm, tired thing, “I absolutely do.”

“Kay's always had a part of himself he only shows to you,” Guinevere had seen it across both lives, as long as she'd known both of them, “You two fit together well.”

“We try,” Bedivere's smile didn't fade or falter, “and I'm thankful for him.”

“Good,” Guinevere rose to her feet, “now go to bed.”

“Yes ma'am,” Bedivere said with a yawn. Guinevere chuckled and shooed him away from his labyrinth of an equipment setup.

–

_Behind the camera, Enid was narrating: “We're on turn three of round one, Kay still with zero,” she said, “Vivian is up, currently also with zero, which puts Agrivane in the lead with one.”_

_“It was luck,” Agrivane said, knees to his chest, arms around his legs, head resting against Kay._

_“More luck than I had,” Kay said with a gentle laugh. He was relaxed, arm still firmly around Agrivane, a clear attempt at comfort._

_Agrivane made a self-depreciating noise._

_“Be kind to yourself,” Kay said absently._

_“Easier said than done,” Agrivane muttered._

_“It takes practice,” Kay said, words much more deliberate, “a lot of practice.”_

_“Not sure I'm up for it,” Agrivane was digging in his self-loathing heels._

_“You're worth it, though,” Kay moved his hand to the center of Agrivane's back, “Kindness.”_

_Agrivane rotated his head so his face was facing Kay but looking at the wall as he made a sound that clearly said he was unconvinced._

_“I should be doing something,” Agrivane's words were less clear facing away from the camera, but still understandable, “Updating my resume, comparing my account with the upcoming bills, **something**.”_

_“Beating us at the nightly improvised entertainment is something,” Vivian pointed out._

_“Hey,” Kay said gently, looking in Agrivane's direction, even more gentle, somehow, “hey.”_

_Agrivane let himself flop over and into Kay, knees shifting to the side instead of up and arms hanging limp. Kay put his hand on Agrivane's upper arm and squeezed._

_“Thanks,” Agrivane muttered._

_“ONE!” Vivian exclaimed, “Sorry, shit timing, but I got one!”_

_“Really?” Kay asked, “Enid, did she actually get one in?”_

_“Hold on,” Enid said as she walked over to the tissue box, its top ripped off with a near-inhuman degree of precision, “Yeah, one!”_

_“Tied for first,” Vivian said._

_“I still have another two rounds,”Agrivane pointed out, voice just slightly lighter._

_“So do I!” Vivian argued._

_“I'd say so do I,” Kay sighed, “but I'd be more optimistic about my odds if we were throwing like. Something with weight to it.”_

_Agrivane made a disbelieving sound._

_“There's Olympic sports for that or something,” Enid informed him, “Whole point was not to damage the walls.”_

_“I forgot that bit already,” Kay shrugged, “Alright, one to one to zero, V has something like five tabs left, then we all get to try to find them all and it's Enid's turn.”_

_“Yeah, exactly five,” Vivian sifted through the tabs in the hand that wasn't doing the throwing, “are you counting?”_

_“Do I look like I have the brain cells to count?” Kay asked, realized what he had said, and covered his mouth. Still, his shoulders shook with barely suppressed laughter._

_“It's what you get for organizing everything in alphabetical order,” Agrivane told him, “You've forgotten the entire numerical system.”_

_“I'll accept that,” Kay removed his hand from his mouth._

_“Now you're just trying to throw me off,” Vivian accused._

_“Are we succeeding?” Kay asked._

_Vivian made a frustrated sound and threw one of the tabs at Kay. It hit him in the cheek and he laughed._

_“Down to four,” Kay told her._

_“So, so worth it,” she narrowed her eyes but was smiling too wide to actually be anything but amused._

“Enid sent it with a note **Everyone's doing better,** ” Bedivere said when the video ended.

“I'm glad she sent a follow-up,” Guinevere said, “looks like they've really committed to the game.”

“I hope they find it entertaining for a few days, at least,” Geraint said, “I can't imagine four people to a room without the option to go outside without **something** to, you know, bond over.”

“Without Merlin that group seems remarkably low-drama,” Gareth noted.

“Mmhmm,” Bedivere hummed, “After Merlin, well, disappeared, it was honestly Kay and Vivian I was most worried about.”

“Really?” Gareth asked at the same time Guinevere said, “Makes sense.”

“What on Earth **was** Camelot like in its heyday?” Galahad asked.

Bedivere shifted to look up at Galahad, asking if he really wanted to know. Galahad nodded. Bedivere sighed, a weight re-settling on his soul he'd thought he'd shaken off.

“I will need to talk with some of the others,” Bedivere's words were heavy things, each one seeming to carry a danger or a pain to it, Galahad couldn't tell, “but once I've done that, I will tell you.”

Galahad wondered if he'd regret deciding he did, in fact, want to know.


	10. Truth is Heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Galahad - as well as everyone else - gets to find out what happened to Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter only: Brief nondescript mentions of abuse, rape, and psychological manipulation in keeping with older texts.

Guinevere and Bedivere sat on the couch, squished together as close as possible so they were sure they'd both fit in the screen. Bedivere had done a few tests and we sure they'd both be in view.

“I'm nervous,” he admitted.

“It feels so...taboo,” Guinevere agreed, “Who has agreed to help with the story and who is going to be listening?”

“Well, us,” Bedivere started with the obvious, “Morgause, Arthur, Kay, Bors, Igraine, and Vivian are all going to try to explain things. Pretty much everyone else is listening.”

“More than I expected,” it sounded like relief followed by an entirely new rush of anxiety, “I have never heard Igraine's story before.”

“I do not believe anyone has,” Bedivere realized he was feeding off her anxiety but had no way to fight it.

“Is there a reason Galahad's upstairs?” she asked.

“He's worried it's going to be more than he can handle and wants the ability to mute himself in private,” Bedivere frowned, “Gareth hasn't decided what he does and does not want to know. Geraint will be along closer to call time.”

“I realize we could have done this on one of your laptops,” she said, “Or my computer, even, but the couch seems more comfortable.”

“I didn't want it to be a clinical thing,” Bedivere sighed, “Still don't want it to be a clinical thing.”

“What do you want it to be?” she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Honest,” he told her, “I know it's going to be rough and a lot, a **lot** of things are going to be dragged back up, but I want it to be as honest as possible.”

“I am glad Arthur grew up with you,” she said, “You're such a rock for Kay and such a trusted confidant for Arthur.”

“I try to be,” Bedivere tried to smile.

“You succeed,” she assured him, “Five minutes.”

A chill ran through Bedivere.

–

“All on?” Bedivere asked as he checked the video feeds to see that each one at least had once face in it, “Sound check.”

“Check,” Kay said.

“Loud and clear,” Morgause said.

“Good here,” Bors confirmed.

“Good,” Galahad said.

“Good to go,” Morgan said.

“Alright,” Bedivere said, “Who doesn't know what this is about?”

“I kind of have a vague idea,” Dinadan said from somewhere near whatever machine Morgan was using, “I'm hoping it fills in some gaps in what seemed to be going on around the time I became part of the court.”

“It isn't going to be pretty, or enjoyable,” Arthur warned, “and it's going to change a lot of how you understand thing about Camelot and about questing when it's all been explained.”

There was a collective sharp inhale.

“We're going to do this in chronological order,” Igraine said, “A lot of this hasn't been talked about before.”

“It's going to be difficult,” Bedivere said plainly,” for all of us.”

“Some basic history, first,” Kay had his eyes closed as if focusing only on his words, “Camelot went back more than ten generations before Arthur's birth. Camelot itself has always had a strong current of magic older than humanity itself sustaining it.”

“Hold on honey, Clarissant has her hand raised,” Bedivere interrupted. Kay nodded and opened his eyes.

“Uh, question,” Clarissant said, “How do you know all this?”

“Camelot's Kings, Queens, and Stewards – such as Arthur, Guinevere, and myself – kept written records,” Kay explained.

“Kay's always had the sharpest memory of the three of us,” Guinevere added.

Kay waited a few beats before he closed his eyes and began speaking again: “The Pendragon bloodline was very much attached to the Old Gods – perhaps still is – and was largely aided by Druids and similar priest-types in keeping balance in the land.”

“Balance was not just of power between people,” Arthur picked up, “but between the gods and their grip on humanity. It was a burden, and one that, well, warped the way things were handled as generations wore on.”

“By the time Merlin became the one in charge of maintaining the balance,” Igraine's voice was tight, “it was no longer about power balance, but power hoarding. Merlin's aim was for Uther – and later Arthur – to be able to have heirs whose connection to the ancient magics would be stronger than the last generation.”

“This was done by seeking women whose bloodlines were also known to produce heirs who could channel magic from a young age,” Kay tried to spare Igraine from explaining what happened, “Irgaine was one such woman, and Merlin saw to it that not only did Uther have, uh, highly manipulated access to her, but also that her husband would fall in battle, making the safest option for her to be marrying Uther anyways.”

“Oh my God,” Brangaine covered her mouth with one of her hands, eyes wide.

“Arthur was taken from me as soon as he was born,” Igraine's voice was steady but her eyes were red and watering, “Given the animosity towards Camelot other Kingdoms had cultivated and the fear of Camelot – and the Pendragons' – power becoming completely uncontrolled.”

“Arthur was raised without knowledge of who his parents were, or his connection to Camelot,” Kay continued, “It was my father's single defiance of Merlin's attempt to control the bloodline.”

“Ector had no idea I had siblings,” Arthur added, “I do not know if Uther even knew I had siblings.”

“He did not,” Igraine lowered her head, “I did not want to know what he would do to my daughters. It was, at that moment, safer to send them to be married than it was to take them with me.”

“Morgan apprenticed at a grove,” Morgause said with a heavy sigh, “but I was married to Lot and had Gawain not long after. I was forbidden to have contact with my mother. Lot viewed her marriage to Uther as a betrayal of existing alliances.”

There were a few cries of surprise and anger from Morgause's children, then silence resumed as they forced themselves into silence.

“Arthur was raised as my brother,” Kay told everyone, “When he was old enough to start asking questions about his mother – my own dead before Arthur's death – Ector explained to him that being of different blood did not make him any less my brother.”

“Bedivere was practically raised alongside us,” Arthur picked up.

“My father and Ector both served as Knights of Camelot,” Bedivere explained, “and my father believed that having all of us learn and train alongside each other would make us all stronger as both Knights and as people.”

“We were close from a young age,” Kay said fondly.

“Bedivere and Kay were unstoppable,” Arthur added, “In the training ring they could take down instructors and generals like they were nothing.”

“Kay trained like he was going to need to take on the world,” Bedivere's tone was an urgent one, “and while he refused to speak of why, I trusted his drive. Turns out he was training like he had to protect the future King.”

“I was a boy when I became King,” Arthur sighed, “I was blindsided.”

“Ector – my father,” Kay's voice wavered for a moment, “thought everyone would have more time before Arthur found out the truth.”

“Merlin was quick to step in,” Arthur growled, “and quick to direct me on what I needed to do, when I needed to do it.”

“When Kay was your foster-brother-slash-brother and one of the strongest fighters, why did you make him steward?” Percival asked.

“While it was – and still is – true that Kay is worth ten or more men on the battle field, he was also a strong and fast learner, and had a knack for hearing and understanding more than anyone else in the room.”

“By being Steward and Knight, I would be able to keep track of whispers that would not normally reach the Court or King,” Kay explained.

“And being good at directing people in a way that left no room for argument helped,” Arthur added.

A strangled laugh made its way out of Gareth. 

“At first I was willing to take anyone who was loyal to Camelot,” Arthur continued, “Gawain, whose father's armies had lost against what was left of Uther's armies I'd inherited by default, was among the first to come into my court rather than Uther's.”

“I had no idea he was my uncle at the time,” Gawain said, “It wasn't until after Guinevere became Queen that we learned the truth.”

“Guinevere is of Roman decent,” Bedivere indicated her with a quick sideways jerk of his head, “to have her as a Queen when the Pendragons – Arthur especially – was supposed to keep the Romans away from Camelot, from England, was a proverbial slap in the face to Merlin's control.”

“To be so loved by Arthur,” Guinevere was looking at Arthur's tiny square, “Merlin came to believe he was going to lose his control of Arthur, and in turn of Camelot.”

“It was common practice,” Morgause picked up, “for Queens and Kings alike to take other people of power to bed. It was a way of ensuring that everyone had a fear, had something to hold over everyone else's heads that would discourage their allies from altering trade agreements in unfavorable ways.”

“It was fucked up,” Igraine was quick to add, “and when viewed through a modern filter, abuse.”

“I was pushed towards the Orkneys,” Arthur grimaced, “and their Queen as a show that I, too, understood how the Games of Court were played despite being so much younger.”

“When Merlin realized Morgause's magic was because she was Igraine's child,” Kay's eyes were open, sharp, “he feared any child resulting of a union between Arthur and Morgause would be more powerful than he was, and in turn lead to the downfall of whatever version of Camelot he had in his head.”

“Merlin warned me the child was going to bring a storm no army could weather,” it was Arthur's turn to close his eyes, “and I believed him.”

“I was appalled,” Guinevere had tears in her eyes, “By Merlin's suggestion, I mean. I understood the Games and their rules, and was surprised he'd only found his way into one other's bed.”

“I hated myself,” Arthur spat, “for listening, for the harm I caused, for what I'd never be able to take back.”

“Mordred was saved by being born over a month before he was expected,” Morgause was crying and Lancelot was hugging her, “I didn't understand what was happening, or why Arthur would not only turn on me but also on the people in general.”

“Which was about where Lancelot came in,” Kay took the attention off Morgause.

“I was raised by the Lady of the Lake, quite literally under a lake,” Lancelot said, “and had no working knowledge of how this world worked.”

“He showed up young,” Arthur said, “but there was something to him that carried the weight of lifetimes of experience.”

“It was the lake,” Lancelot said.

“And the Lake's magic was another slap in the face,” Vivian realized, “Camelot was amassing magic that was new, or at the very least not connected to the elder gods.”

“And I had no idea,” Arthur sighed, “When Merlin realized Mordred survived and taking him out of the equation wasn't going to be as..” he trailed off.

“It's much harder to drown a boat full of pre-teens,” Kay seethed.

“Kay,” Bedivere warned.

“He's right,” Arthur grimaced, “so Merlin tried another avenue to regain control over what he thought was his.”

“The Grail,” Bors said, “He'd need someone malleable, someone raised outside of the court but still with a strong attachment – say, blood – to tie them to the court and call them home when the time was right.”

“What do you mean?” Percival asked.

“You and Galahad,” Bors said, “Your father was a Knight. He was a wonderful man and loved you dearly. I promised him I would do my best to look after you. When your mother took you and your sister as far away as she could, I feared I would be unable to fulfill my promise to him.”

“And then there's Galahad,” Arthur's grimace intensified.

“Lancelot was _chosen_ ,” Kay said the word like a curse, “for his magics and his closeness to the King.”

“And _she_ ,” Lancelot was shaking, “had Merlin's magics forced on her several times over. I had hoped – prayed – there would be no resulting child. I was never fit to be a father and the violence involved I feared would stain the child's soul. When Galahad came to court, bright and pure, I thought he could not be my child.”

Galahad's screen went blank.

“When Galahad and Percival came together to try to find the Grail,” Bors said, “I went with them to try to fulfill my promise to Percival's father.”

“It wasn't a Grail at all,” Galahad's voice came from Bedivere's phone. Bedivere flipped the camera to show Galahad standing in the living room so Galahad could be seen as well as heard, “It was a crack in the veil between worlds, where the magics that flowed through Camelot also flowed freely in an area no court had been held in, well, I don't know how long.”

“Merlin was trying to set up a second Camelot,” Bors picked up, “and the only way to prevent that was sealing the crack.”

“Which required a lot,” Galahad sat down next to Bedivere and the camera was flipped back around, “Sacrifice level a lot.”

“We didn't plan for it,” Bors closed his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, there was a darkness behind them. He continued: “We did not know what it would cost, what was required. It should not have been them.”

“But we sealed it,” Galahad continued, “Despite the costs, we sealed it.”

“After Galahad and Percival's death,” Arthur's voice was not as strong as it had been, “Merlin convinced me Camelot would fall because it had fallen out of favor of the gods. After all, if my Knights could not retrieve the Grail, then what evidence of favor did I still hold?”

“It was complicated by the fact I had been caught in bed with the Queen,” Lancelot's eyes were moving fast, trying to gauge everyone's reaction, “which Merlin took as collusion against his hold on Arthur.”

“Lancelot took Guinevere and fled,” Arthur said, “on my suggestion.”

“It was the final straw for Merlin,” Morgan said, “I could feel his anger from across the channel.”

“I was told Arthur was planning on taking a new wife in Guinevere's absence,” Mordred admitted, “and was going to try to have a _legitimate_ son to invalidate my claim to the throne.”

“Which, I was not,” Arthur added, “I still had no idea I even had a son at this point. I knew Mordred, yes, but I, well. Yeah.”

“I was present when Merlin told Arthur the entire truth about Mordred,, about Camelot, and about the Pendragon line” Kay said, “ **Devastated and betrayed** doesn't begin to cover it.”

“All of the sudden not only did I have a son through my sister but he was on his way with an army to take the throne,” Arthur was looking at Mordred.

“There were initial hopes of being able to reach an agreement without drawing blood,” Bedivere said, “but we rallied an army anyways so we were not three aging men against an entire army.”

“I wanted to believe what Arthur was telling me,” Mordred hung his head, “but after everything else I had heard, after losing so many of my family members at the hands of someone who hailed from Camelot or from a Quest funded through Camelot, I...I couldn't trust him.”

“It was one of each of our soldiers who ignited the war, though,” Arthur recalled, “A misunderstanding wiped out the last of the Pendragon line and in turn left Camelot unprotected. Well, almost unprotected.”

“The last item of Camelot,” Bedivere's words were heavy, as if each was being dragged up from the bottom of his soul, “sent off to a fair folk who was known to frequent a particular lake, to keep the last of the old magic out of Merlin's hands.”

“Bedivere was the last man standing,” Arthur told everyone, “and was able to send my sword off with Lancelot's adoptive mother for safe keeping as I lay dying.”

“Afterwards I kept vigil over Arthur until the last embers of his funeral pyre burned out,” Bedivere said, “There was nothing left for me in Camelot, so I spent the rest of my days as a sell-sword.”

“That is,” Arthur looked defeated, “the most condensed version of it.”

“Somewhere along the lines, being close to another became dangerous,” Kay said, “If Merlin knew who you were close to, he could use them to try to manipulate you into doing whatever it was he needed.”

“I started training for ruthlessness,” Arthur admitted, “for each Knight to be able to stand on his own, and stand for Camelot rather than the crown.”

“That explains why some of your Knights did not know your face,” Dinadan realized. Arthur nodded.

“I wanted Camelot to fall,” Arthur's words were raw, terrible things, “I did not want it to fall the way it did, but I wanted it to fall. And the only way for that to happen, from my understanding at the time, was to be the last of my bloodline. Without the Pendragons, Camelot became much harder to maintain control over.”

“The point between worlds sealed itself,” Bedivere added, “after Arthur died. I could feel it.”

“So how many of you have magic?” Lamorak asked, “Then and today.”

“Then, uh,” Kay paused to do a head count, “Out of those of us who have made our return, twelve. Still? I have no idea.”

“Merlin's no longer with our group,” Vivian realized she had no idea if everyone had been told by now, “He left – literally disappeared into thin air – after a fight with Kay.”

“He kept insisted we would fail again,” Kay recalled, “and I was very insistent that if we were to fail, we would fail on our own terms because he did nothing to actually help the first time around.”

“I'm proud of you,” Bedivere was quick to interject. Kay grinned, a reflexive thing.

“Whatever he meant us to do,” Arthur said, “whatever the reason is we have returned, I do not know.”

“I have a theory, after listening to everyone,” Morgan said, “but I will need some time to think on it.”

“If relationships were dangerous,” Gaheris asked, “why were Kay and Bedivere inseparable until the very end?”

“They'd been together longer than Arthur had been King,” Gawain answered for the couple, “If they separated Merlin and anyone who sympathized with him would have known something was going on behind his back.”

“Is that why so few Knights married and had children?” Percival asked, “Of the younger Knights, I mean.”

“Oh, no, there was just an incredibly high percentage of queer folk who came to court,” Bedivere said, “and that made it much easier to feel at ease about having a lower number of possible points of manipulation for Merlin to latch on to.”

“There was a hope,” Arthur looked at each of the tiny squares in turn, “until the very end that Camelot could fall silently, continue as a shell of her former self and those who served her could go their own ways.”

“I never knew,” Dinadan said, “As close to the throne as I was, I never knew.”

“I didn't know either,” Gawain shivered, “What does it mean for us, now?”

“It means we live,” Mordred said, his entire affect much more stable than his father's, “It means we finally have a chance to find out who we are as people rather than unwitting puppets.”

“So that's why we're hunting for traces of Camelot,” Palamedes realized, “of her magics. To make sure there's nothing for Merlin and-or whoever he's gathered to his side to get a hold of and re-open the rift.”

“Well, no, not that sophisticated,” Arthur admitted, “I meant it when I said the purpose was to see what trace magics still exist in this modern world and to try to figure out of more up us are still out there, unaware we've began to gather again.”

“Why are you telling us all this now?” Gaheris snapped, “Why not before, why not out first life?”

“Because telling the entire Court all of this when it was still Merlin's playground would have only resulted in him trying to tighten his grip,” Kay snapped back, “We may as well have just given him permission to scrape our minds, our souls out of our bodies and use every last one of us as living playthings until Camelot was his and his alone.”

“Kay,” Bedivere tried to calm his partner down.

“I'm not apologizing,” Kay grumbled. Gaheris looked horrified.

“Merlin was capable of that,” Arthur said, “and so, so much worse. It seems his powers have weakened with time.”

“He's been cut off from the source of his powers,” Bedivere pointed out, “That would weaken him immensely.”

“It's all a lot,” Galahad said.

“It is,” Arthur agreed, “and I have no excuses for what I allowed.”

“You're getting things much better this time,” Mordred leaned his head on his father's shoulder.”

“We all are,” Bedivere agreed, “Mordred's right – this is our chance to live. To, for those who are willing, make a Camelot based on our own ideas and ideals rather than those that entrapped us.”

“That you can find hope in this mess amazes me,” Morgause shook her head.

“This is turning into a rebellion,” Bedivere told everyone, “A denouncement of the chains that kept Camelot captive. We **need** hope for that.”

“I don't tell you I love you often enough,” Kay told him.

“I love you,” Bedivere replied.

“America team isn't it almost five in the morning for you?” Iseult realized.

“Yep,” Kay nodded.

“Oh my God,” Iseult's eyes went wide, “Not that I am going to complain about not having to wait until later, but why?”

“Turnips tend to be cheaper the earlier you get to them,” Kay shrugged.

“Turnips?” Lamorak asked at the same time Elaine asked, “You play Animal Crossing?”

“Oh shit it's turnip day,” Bedivere sat up straighter, jostling Guinevere and Galahad.

“There's a lot more in the details,” Arthur refocused everyone, “and a lot more to feel about it as things get processed. Please, reach out. Talk to each other. Do not let what you have learned become a wound, please.”

“There is strength to be found in camaraderie,” Bedivere told everyone, “and comfort to be found in each other.”

“Take that any which way you choose,” Kay added. Bedivere hissed Kay's name as his cheeks flushed. A scattering of laughter lightened the general mood, even bringing a few smiles forward for more than a moment.

“We are going to thrive,” Lancelot said, “We are stronger, we have more resources, and we have our first lives where we have already learned so, so many lessons, for better and for worse. Will there be challenges, obstacles? Absolutely. But we are stronger together.”

“Always a general,” Arthur said fondly.

“I am exhausted,” Kay said, “mentally and physically. But please, reach out _before_ you find you absolutely need to – to any of us.”

“And if your turnip prices are good let us all know,” Clarissant added.

“Remind me after I get some sleep and I'll set up an Animal Crossing group message,” Kay said with a yawn.

“I'll set it up while you sleep,” Clarissant told him.

“I,” Kay seemed like he might argue for a moment, “thank you.”

“Together,” Clarissant's voice was bright, “Together, we will get things done, mundane and otherwise.”

“Together,” Kay agreed, an exhausted smile showing itself.

A chorus of _together_ rose as if ushering a truly new era of Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans will resume next chapter.


	11. Lighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the gravity and darkness of the truth, this new Camelot finds some light to hold.

_“So have you decided where you're going?” Dinadan asked Gaheris._

_“With my family,” Gaheris said, “where ever the most of them end up. I. I need to spend some time with them.”_

_Dinadan made a thoughtful noise._

_“What about you?” Gaheris asked._

_“Palamedes and I are going to stay at Kay and Bedivere's,” Dinadan said, “They're going to be holed up at the Arthur and Gwen's, and their place is not only bigger but has a better hot water heater.”_

_“Smart,” Gaheris told him, “They're in London, right?”_

_“Yeah,” Dinadan said, “but there's not going to be many perks of staying in the city itself, really, but the place is going to be a treat.”_

_“It's always so clean,” Gaheris marveled._

_“Talking about Kay and Bedivere's?” Palamedes asked as he rounded the corner, “Shower's free but who ever's next may want to give the water heater a bit to catch up.”_

_“More generally talking about where we're headed,” Dinadan told him, “but yeah, Kay and Bedivere's.”_

_“They say they don't hire a cleaning service,” Palamedes came into the frame, towel around his waist, “and I am inclined to believe them given, well, how generally honest they both are, but damn. I have never seen a place as clean as theirs.”_

_“I wonder how Kay's doing in the hotel,” Gaheris said absently, “Well, all of them, really.”_

_“They seemed relaxed,” Lamorak said from behind the camera, “Well, as relaxed as one could be, given the nature of...of everything.”_

_“It's a lot to take in,” Dinadan agreed, “I knew there was more to Camelot than was obvious, and even more than was kept secret, but that's.”_

_“Cutting off access to the magic of the Elder gods not once but twice in the same King's era,” Morgan said from somewhere off-screen, “That's not something people **should** be able to do.”_

_“What do you mean?” Lamorak asked, camera jostling in a way that indicated he turned to look at Morgan._

_“The magic of the elder gods should, in theory, overpower any magic a human can handle, even if said magic was a snippet of the elder gods' magic,” Morgan explained, still off-camera, “which means either the cracks were healing themselves **or** Camelot – Arthur – had help from people who were only people on the surface.”_

_“What?” Gaheris squeaked._

_“Gods and fair folk,” Morgan said more plainly, “were likely among us at court, full-blooded or half-human, and had a direct hand in what happened.”_

_“Huh,” Dinadan made a quiet noise of surprise, “That's certainly something to consider.”_

_“The Queen – Gwen,” Palamedes corrected himself, tried to be less rigidly formal, “was from Rome despite Merlin's desire to keep Roman forces from coming back. That would mean he wasn't the one to choose Arthur's bride.”_

_“Well I can't say I'm in a hurry to try to find him to ask him,” Morgan's disgust was palpable._

_“It feels like we were supposed to re-open the crack,” Palamedes tugged his towel a little tighter around his hips, “at least, that's what Merlin was trying to get us to do.”_

_“Why, though?” Lamorak asked, “After all this time, why now?”_

_“Hell if I have an answer,” Morgan could be seen shaking her head as Lamorak finally panned the camera to her, “Turn that thing off and come get breakfast.”_

“Huh,” Geraint made the first noise.

“A lot of good points,” Galahad managed a few words.

“I have about twenty minutes before I have to officially be online for work,” Bedivere said, “but-”

“You're back to work already?” Gareth asked.

“I took a month holiday time,” Bedivere said, “It's been a month already.”

“Fuck,” Gareth swore.

“Indeed,” Bedivere was unimpressed, “There were four more came in overnight, though, one for every group. We can get through as many as possible before work if you all want.”

“Sounds good to me,” Guinevere said.

–

_Kay was sprawled out on one of the hotel beds, face-down, sound asleep, Agrivane was curled up against Kay's right side and Enid was curled against Kay's left._

_“It's only been half a day since everyone finally got to hear the truth about Camelot and the Pendragons,” Vivian's voice was quiet, barely a whisper, but still intelligible, “and at least here we seem to be returning to the ways of Old Camelot. They've been asleep like that for near an hour and I'm not far from joining them, but I figured you'd want to know,” her smile could be heard in her words, “there's some sort of healing going on here.”_

Bedivere made an amused noise.

“Are you alright?” Gareth asked.

“Yes?” Bedivere was puzzled, “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Uh,” Gareth looked at the screen and didn't say anything else.

“We all used to be like that,” Bedivere said, “especially in times of stress. It let everyone feel more at ease, being as close as we could. And well. Kay's a living heater.”

“It looks nice,” Galahad said, “the just, the closeness and just, wow, I don't think I've ever seen Kay **or** Agrivane with that little tension in their bodies.”

“It is nice,” Bedivere smiled, “both as an experience and to see it returning.”

“Wow,” Gareth blinked a few times, “I feel like, if Lynette were both here this time and in Enid's place I would have just felt jealousy, not relief.”

“Which is something you may do well to think on,” Guinevere said, her voice kind but her words sharp. Gareth ducked his head.

“I'm not sure what I think of it,” Geraint admitted, “but the fact you trust Kay helps. A lot.”

“They all do look so peaceful,” Guinevere said, “Oh, I hope it takes root.”

“We all ready for the next one?” Bedivere asked.

–

_“So we're at the biggest grocery store we could find,” Clarissant had herself in the lower part of the frame and was filming vertically, “Well, Bors and I are, but it seems Bors found an old friend! Say hello!”_

_“Who am I saying hello to?” the old friend asked._

_“Well, in theory Bedivere,” Clarissant said, “since he'd the one who asked us to do these things. But I have no idea who else is watching them.”_

_“How many of you are there?”_

Bedivere his pause.

“Holy shit,” Gareth breathed.

“You recognize him?” Galahad asked.

“Sure do,” Bedivere was grinning, “What's he doing in Iceland, though?”

“Hopefully we'll find out,” Guinevere hit play.

_“Including you, assuming you're staying,” Clarissant said, “thirty. Though only five of us are up here. Six, including you now.”_

_“When we are in a more private place,” the newcomer said, “you will have to catch me up to speed.”_

_“We will be heading back to the rental when we are done here,” Bors told him, “I do believe there is someone who will be very, very excited to see you, Sir Bertilak.”_

“It is him!” Gareth explained, “It is!”

“I have a feeling we'll find out what he's doing there in another video,” Geraint said, “That one was short.”

“They're all pretty short,” Bedivere said, “but it was a high-impact morning, so that every group has sent something is amazing.”

“Very,” Galahad agreed, “but wow, what are the odds they'd find someone in Iceland?”

“Pretty high, really,” Guinevere said, “Iceland is another place that has roots reaching deep within the old magics.”

“It does?” Geraint asked.

“Arthur lead several expeditions in search of places with powerful magics running through the land,” Guinevere told them, “and more than one to Iceland. I understand, now, why Merlin pushed him towards those types of Quests rather than resources we did not have direct access to.”

“Perhaps it's a good thing that group in particular is in Iceland,” Galahad drummed his fingers on the table, “Between Igraine and Bors, had Merlin – of gods forbid he has any allies we don't know about – they would not have won any ground. Literal or physical.”

“How so?” Gareth asked.

“Igraine knows, perhaps better than any of us, what Merlin's manipulation is capable of,” Galahad reasoned, “and Bors. Well. I don't know what he was like before I came to Court, but he could bend any magic to his will.”

“That sounds fucking terrifying,” Geraint said plainly.

“It was,” Galahad said with a subtle nod, “but he was so protective and so in control of himself it was easy to forget there was magic there at all.”

“Makes sense,” Bedivere said, “He always prided himself on his control, on and off the field.”

“I never knew exactly what his magics were, what he was capable of,” Galahad added, “and I may never know, but his subdued nature hides his power.”

“Sounds interesting and a little scary,” Geraint said with a yawn, “We have one left, yeah?”

“Two,” Bedivere correctly.

–

_Lancelot was on his back, head craned at an odd angle, arms above his head, something the kitsune was chewing on between his hands. They were, it seemed, in the middle of a game of tug-of-war and it seemed Lancelot may have been on the losing end._

_“Any luck getting your sock back?” Morgause asked from behind the camera._

_“I think its his now,” Lancelot said it like some sort of confession, “Man, I really need to do laundry.”_

_“I have a washer and dryer, you know?” Yvain asked from somewhere nearby._

_“I know,” Lancelot sighed, “I just need to like. Remember that and have the energy to do laundry **and** remember I need to do laundry at the same time.”_

_“Oh man,” Iseult said, also off-screen, “How do you manage at home?”_

_“Usually I have a pretty set routine,” Lancelot said, “but everything I use as a time or space anchor is just. Gone. And is going to stay gone for a while, it seems.”_

_“Do you know where you're going, once we're allowed?” Yvain asked._

_“Art and Gwen's,” Lancelot said without hesitation._

_“Aww,” Iseult made a happy noise._

_“I like how none of you are helping me get my sock back,” Lancelot changed the subject._

_“You seem to have it under control,” Yvain sounded unworried._

_“It's your fox,” Lancelot challenged, “If he eats my sock I tried to stop him.”_

_“Oh shit good point,” Yvain was suddenly in the frame, prying the kitsune's mouth off Lancelot's sock._

_The video was shaking with Morgause's laughter as she cut the feed._

“It's so domestic,” Geraint said. “The video and the fox, I think.”

“At least I know where I get my love of wearing socks inside,” Galahad noted.

“I don't want to know,” Bedivere decided.

–

_Judging by the laughter, Brangaine was behind the camera._

_“Hold still,” Elaine was trying to apply eye liner to Tristan._

_“It's fucking terrifying!” Tristan defended himself, “I don't understand how **anyone** can just shove pointy things in the general direction of their eyes!”_

_“Like this,” Mordred plucked the eyeliner from Elaine's fingers and put his other hand on the side of Tristan's face, “Now, close just your left eye lightly and keep it closed.”_

_“Oh God why,” Tristan whined._

_“You're the one who wanted to find out what it's like,” Arthur pointed out from somewhere off-screen._

_“You aren't even a little curious?” Tristan asked Arthur._

_“Nope,” Arthur replied, “I tried once when I was in my twenties and decided I never want anything coming at my eyes again. I won't even do contacts?”_

_“You need glasses?” Mordred asked._

_“Eh,” Arthur's shrug could be heard even though it wasn't seen, “I **should** wear them but my eyesight isn't bad enough it's going to put anyone or anything at risk when I don't wear them.”_

Guinevere hit pause. “He wears them when he's driving,” she told everyone before hitting play again.

_“I think I want out,” Tristan said._

_“Alright,” Mordred shrugged and pulled back._

_“Wait, really?” Tristan blinked a few times._

_“Well, yeah,” Elaine said, “We're not going to force you to do it.”_

_“Even though I asked?” Tristan looked between them._

_“You also said you want out,” Brangaine reeled in her laughter, “It's not fun for the rest of us if you're not having fun, too.”_

_“Thanks,” Tristan said sheepishly, “I'm still curious how you do this every day, but I don't think I can do it.”_

_“It's a lot different when you're doing it to yourself,” Mordred told him, “Like, yeah, odds are you're going to poke yourself in the eye but unless something goes wrong it's going to be more annoying than anything.”_

_“Sounds like you know from experience,” Tristan said._

_“You have no idea,” Mordred said with a laugh, “There were some disasters in the early parts of the learning process.”_

_“Every once in a while, my hand will slip and all the sudden I have a solid black line just kind of hanging out next to my eye or on my cheek,” Elaine told him._

_“I feel bad you got our a whole new one for me and none of it's happening,” Tristan rubbed the back of his neck._

_“Don't worry about it!” Elaine assured him, “I have so many of these from sample kits and gift bags.”_

_“That makes me feel a little better,” Tristan tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace._

_“If you find you're still interested later,” Mordred told him, “and want to do it yourself, my best advice is to wash your hands really, really well, especially under your fingernails, and just stand in front of the mirror and poke yourself in the eye very lightly to get yourself used to something coming in that direction and not hurting.”_

_“No, thanks,” Tristan looked a shade paler._

_“On a different note,” Elaine picked up on Tristan's growing unease, “and not that I'm kicking any of you out, but what are you doing once mandatory quarantine is over?”_

_“I'm going home,” Arthur said, “I miss Gwen and Lance something awful.”_

_“I knew it!” Mordred's face lit up, “Also, I'm going to the same place because Galahad seems to have dug in there.”_

_“Ah,” Arthur's eyebrows shot up, “so the, uh, your pets are there, too, I take it.”_

_“They're just guinea pigs!” Mordred's tone said they'd had this conversation before._

_“I'm going home to Iseult,” Tristan said._

_“I haven't decided,” Brangaine added, “but after everything, probably not back home. I don't have pets or plants and I don't want to be alone.”_

_“I'm not kicking you out,” Elaine repeated._

_“I appreciate you,” Brangaine said warmly._

–

“So,” Galahad sat down next to Bedivere, who currently had his forehead on the edge of the table, “who won?”

“Kay did,” Bedivere told him, “with an oddly specific entry of **before all the travel-related quarantines are up, on a video that has nothing to do with him and his relationships**.”

“He knows his brother,” Galahad decided.

“That he does,” Bedivere managed a laugh.

“Are you alright?” Galahad asked, “Like, is it work? Something else? Both?”

“Both,” Bedivere sighed but remained with his forehead on the edge of the table, “Work is work, it's more meetings that should have been emails than I care to count and more problems than there are solutions.”

“If you worked any sector besides tech I'd be even more worried,” Galahad informed him.

“I'm used to going into the office,” Bedivere told him, “I'm afraid the line between personal life and work life is going to get blurred to the point it's mutable.”

“I hadn't even thought of that,” Galahad frowned, “I'm out of work until restrictions lift.”

“Let me know if you need any help,” Bedivere told him, “Seriously. Before it becomes an issue.”

“I'm good for a while,” Galahad assured him, “but thank you.”

“Gwen goes back to work – well, starts working remotely like me – on Thursday,” Bedivere said, “I should ask Gareth and Geraint what their situation is and if they need anything.”

“I can ask them,” Galahad offered.

“Thanks,” Bedivere sighed again.

“Seriously, are you alright?” Galahad asked.

“I miss Kay,” Bedivere forced himself to sit up, “I miss him so much it's painful.”

“And I haven't even asked you how you've been holding up,” Galahad frowned, “I'm sorry.”

“No need to be,” Bedivere was quick to try to assure him, “Really.”

“You're allowed to hurt like the rest of us,” Galahad said.

Bedivere frowned and looked at Galahad, only to be met with a look of honest determination from the younger Knight.

“You're right,” Bedivere told him, “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Galahad managed a smile, “So, uh, are you between meetings or...”

“Between meetings,” Bedivere told him, “and trying to pretend like the last ticket that came in isn't happening.”

“Tea?” Galahad offered.

“Always,” Bedivere's posture relaxed a little.

Whatever normal was going to end up looking like, Bedivere found he could hold some hope for it.


	12. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's back on their home soil. Reunions are had, questions are asked. Answers will have to wait.

Guinevere was still mostly asleep when she registered Bedivere was talking incredibly fast and fidgeting.

“Bedi,” she finally managed, knowing the nickname would get his attention if nothing else would.

It worked – he stopped, seemed frozen even in the darkness of her bedroom.

“Again, and slower,” she told him, “please.”

“They're coming home,” Bedivere still said it as if it were one word, if not slightly more understandable, “They got tickets and they're coming home.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Guinevere felt the weight not knowing then the America group would make it home evaporate, “Are you going to wake the others?”

“Geraint for sure,” Bedivere was starting to fidget again.

“...and then you're driving to the airport and waiting for them,” she guessed. Judging by the strangled laugh that escaped Bedivere, that was exactly what he planned on doing, “Take Arthur's boat of an SUV.”

–

Galahad was seated in Bedivere's usual spot, looking between machines like one of them would eventually just give up its secrets.

“So uh,” Gareth put a mug of coffee down next in front of Galahad, “I think I understood three words Bedivere was trying to say before he, uh, it sounded like he **ran** off?”

“Kay and the rest of that group are coming home today,” Galahad said as he took the mug and held it to his chest, “and he and Geraint are, apparently, going to wait in one of Arthur's cars at the airport.”

“How did you get all that?” Gareth marveled.

“Before, well,” Galahad's eyes clouded over for a moment before he continued, “before the Grail. I was apprenticing under him as an aspiring Warmarshall. I'm used to what happens when he gets excited about something.”

“It must have been nice but also terrifying,” Gareth sat down at his usual place at the table, “I never knew.”

“It was a quiet thing,” Galahad sighed into his coffee, “We all knew the odds of returning alive after the Grail quest were low, and losing the sole apprentice Warmarshall would have been a blow Camelot didn't need.”

“So many secrets,” Gareth shivered.

“That, at least, seems to be changing,” Galahad tried to sound reassuring. Gareth signed again but made an effort to smile a little.

“Morning boys,” Guinevere said with a yawn, “Did he wake you, too?” 

“Uh-huh,” Gareth nodded. Galahad was mid-yawn, and Guinevere took that to be an affirmative.

“He did tell me the password to the,” Galahad paused as he tried to remember exactly what it was Bedivere had told him the password was to, “laptop he has the email tied to the videos.”

“Of course he's been using one for just that,” Guinevere shook her head, “Did he tell you what to do with it?”

“Just to check it once or twice for anything that might seem urgent,” Galahad finally took a sip of his coffee, “I have no idea what urgent means and it feels a little weird going through his laptop.”

“I'll do it,” Guinevere offered.

Galahad did not hesitate in texting her the password.

–

_Clarissant's giggle could be heard, but it was Bertilak in the camera's view._

_“Put that away,” Bors told her._

_“But!” she started to object._

_“You can pull it out again once they've had her moment,” he told her._

_“Ugh, fine,” she grumbled._

_The video, instead of ending, cut to Bertilak sitting on the couch with Gawain curled up impossibly small on his lap, Bertilak's arm clutched across Gawain's chest. Gawain had clearly been crying and made no effort to hide that fact. His feet were tucked under his grandmother, who had a fond smile on her face._

_“So,” Percival's voice sounded much more like he was still a Knight than usual, “what brings you all the way up here?”_

_“I'm hoping you lot,” Bertilak looked around the room, “The land's guardians are uneasy about the insurgence of magic and I owe them a favor, so I came to see if the new magics were any danger to them.”_

_“When was the surge?” Bors asked._

_“Near a week ago,” Bertilak told them, “I, well, conventional travel is not how I travel.”_

_“Bullshit,” Gawain muttered despite himself._

_“Language,” Igraine said mildly._

_“Impress her or don't curse at all,” Clarissant said from behind the camera, “At least, that's what she's been telling us.”_

_“And has anyone managed to impress her?” Bertilak sounded close to laughter._

_“Percival, actually,” Clarissant must have looked away from the screen to look at the man in question, because the frame shifted suddenly, just slightly off-center._

_“Really?” Bertilak's eyes widened._

_“Anything worth doing is worth doing well,” Percival's reply was a reflexive one. Still, it drew some laughter._

_“What happened, last week,” Bertilak addressed the thing he was here for, “that would have caused a surge large enough to set the land spirits off? Despite hunting near the entire country I stumbled upon Bors by accident.”_

_Gawain looked at Igraine, who was looking at someone off-screen._

_“The truth,” Bors answered as Clarissant shifted the camera to him, “We finally told those who have returned the truth about Camelot, and Merlin,” Bors took a deep, centering breath, “and about sealing the cracks between worlds.”_

_“Ah,” Bertilak's face fell, “that would do it.”_

_Clarissant panned back to Bertilak and, by extension, “Gawain.”_

_“You knew?” Gawain asked, craning his neck to look up at Bertilak._

_“Hard not to,” Bertilak held Gawain a little closer._

_“Right,” Gawain muttered, “So if the elder gods' magic was sealed away, how did you fare?”_

_Bertilak sighed and his entire body tensed before he answered: “Gods and fair folk will always have access to their magic unless **their soul** is somehow sealed off from the rest of them.”_

_“Like Ragnelle?” Clarissant asked._

_“Clare!” Gawain hissed, a flash of anger contorting his features before disappearing as quickly as it had arrived._

_“It's a valid question,” Bertilak used his free hand to stroke Gawain's hair, “But yes. Fair folk, such as her, are easier to bind than Gods, but it still would have had to be something done by people who knew what they were doing.”_

_“And what about human magic?” Percival asked, “How does that come into play?”_

_“There are as many types of magic as there are other types of energy,” Igraine told him, “More, really, but bear with me,” she paused, presumably waiting for some sort of signal from Percival to continue, “The magic most humans will have is different from what the Gods and fair folk will have.”_

_“So what about Galahad, then?” Percival asked._

_“What about Galahad?” Bertilak's words were calm but his face went pale._

_“If his magics are in fact from when we closed the rift,” Percival's words were a little slower in coming, picked more carefully, “what does that mean for him?”_

_“Where is Merlin?” Bertilak looked ready to get moving._

_“Disappeared somewhere in America,” Bors' answer had a growl to it, “Why?”_

_“Because if he thinks someone might be able to re-open the rift,” Bertilak was still seated despite looking very much like he wanted to go somewhere, “we cannot predict what he will do.”_

_“We have no travel back,” Bors' was quick to say, “None scheduled, anyways.”_

_“You have me,” Bertilak said with a grin that reminded everyone he was never Going to be Human._

“What's the time stamp on that video?” Gareth asked.

“Uh,” Guinevere closed the video and looked at the time stamp on the email, “about ten minutes ago,” she blinked a few times, “I'll get the coffee pot set up and a delivery order started.”

“I wonder how they're traveling,” was all Gareth could say.

“I wonder if any of them know where to show up,” Galahad locked Bedivere's laptop screen, “Percival's only been here once, Bors hasn't been here for a year, and the rest of them are horrible with directions.”

“It's a family trait,” Gareth confessed, “Whole damned bloodline doesn't have a sense of direction.”

“Great,” Galahad nearly laughed.

–

Bedivere was instructed to stay in his vehicle while the people he was picking up were loading their suitcases. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel erratically, resisting the urge to tell the person taking everyone's temperatures to shove it and let him see his partner.

Finally, finally, everyone was in the car. Kay sat behind Bedivere, a few questioning glances but no one wanted to say anything in front of the already impatient individual monitoring their departure.

Agrivane took the passenger seat.

The attendant slammed the car door shut.

“I hope your remote's dead when you get home,” Bedivere grumbled, “I missed you terribly.”

Kay, without hesitation, crawled over the seat – over Bedivere – and came to an awkward stop, most of him in Bedivere's lap, his feet on the far side of the center console. 

“Missed you,” Kay told him.

“What the hell?” Enid asked, “I mean, really, Kay, what the hell?”

“I missed him,” Kay said.

**“Where did your joints go??”** Enid asked.

“Optional,” Kay announced.

Agrivane sighed and tapped Kay's feet to let him know he could stretch out his legs if he wanted.

“When we get to a good place to switch everyone around,” Agrivane said, “I'm driving.”

–

“Keep us updated,” Bedivere told Enid and Geraint as they dropped them off outside of their building, “please.”

“We will,” Enid assured them, “Thank you.”

Agrivane was still in the driver's seat, the anxiety he felt at the idea of driving so much through so many cities giving way to **never wanted to see joints be optional again.**

“Where will you all be going?” Geraint asked.

“I'll be going beck to Art and Gwen's,” Kay said, “Seems like this one's set up base there.” He knocked his head against Bedivere's gently.

“I'll be going where I'm needed,” Vivian decided.

“No idea,” Agrivane realized.

“Take care of yourselves,” Geriant said as he began closing the door, “Please.”

“We will,” Vivian assured him.

Once Agrivane was sure they were inside their building, he began driving.

“Where am I going?” he asked the car.

“Art and Gwen's,” Bedivere said, “unless Vivian has somewhere to go.”

“Where ever I'm needed,” she repeated. 

“Right now, at least as far as magic and research goes, you're going to be most useful where ever Morgause's samples are,” Bedivere told her.

“Where what are?” Agrivane squeaked.

“The Tokyo group was the only group that found magics,” Bedivere explained, “It's. They're.”

“Tokyo?” Vivian asked.

“You'd have to see it,” Bedivere shook his head, “They're all at Yvain's now. Three days until they can go home...or where ever they're going.”

Vivian nodded and crawled into the now-empty passenger seat with far less finesse than Kay had managed. “I'll go back to mine for a few days and then see where the samples are going.”

“Probably same place I'm staying,” Bedivere told her, “She's not the only one who's found something in that group.”

“Tell me when I've had some time to decompress,” she told him, “But yeah, my place for at least a few days.”

“Put your address into my phone,” Agrivane told her, “and let's get going.”

–

_“He's lost the ability to benefit from coffee,” Dagonet said, his camera facing forward for once, “I don't think he even realizes he's still drinking concentrate and not like, normal coffee.”_

_“Why are you filming this?” Morgan asked._

_“He just drank the equivalent of at least six cups of coffee in one go and started taking a nap,” Dinadan said, “Why should I **not** record this?”_

_“I can't even begin to counter that,” Morgan said with a heavy sigh, “Just. Wow.”_

_“How do you keep the coffee coming, anyways?” Dinadan asked, “Like, we haven't left your flat in, well, two days will be two weeks. Where does it keep coming from?”_

_“So many questions,” Morgan tutted._

_Dinadan cut the feed._

Galahad and Gareth stared at the screen, unsure of what they just saw or how Lamorak was sleeping sitting upright like that.

The sound of the front door opening made Galahad close the laptop and bound towards the foyer to see who'd arrived.

“I brought friends!” Bedivere bellowed, “Sorry if you're on a call!”

“You're back! “Galahad exclaimed, “Where's Geraint?”

“Back at his flat,” Kay said, “with Enid.”

“Good on them,” Galahad meant it, but still felt the sting of Mordred's absence.

Vivian pushed past the group and went to find Guinevere.

“It's nice to be back,” Kay said, much more quiet than usual, “It is so, so nice to be back.”

–

“Where are we?” Bors asked.

“Looks like the back of Arthur and Guinevere's property,” Igraine told him, “We have a bit of a walk.”

“Huh,” Bertilak sounded surprised, “Sorry.”

“It may be worth returning to this spot when we've had some time to make sense of everything,” Bors suggested, “in case there's a reason your portal was drawn here.”

“Good thinking,” Bertilak agreed.

While everyone else headed for the house, Bors and Bertilak begin finding and arranging stones in ways that were unmistakably deliberate but not so obvious anyone could stumble upon it and know there was something to be found there.

Bertilak could not shake the feeling there were so many missing pieces to the puzzle he had stumbled into.


	13. Chapter 13

_“Why are you filming?” Guinevere did not look up, did not give any indication that she knew there was a camera in the room, nonetheless pointed at her._

_“It seems fitting, to keep recording,” Clarissant said from behind the camera, “Besides, if this does wind up being some face-off between Merlin and the rest of us, it'll be nice for the survivors to know who we were as, you know, people.”_

_Guinevere sighed, a heavy thing, but looked right at the camera._

_“Gwen,” Vivian said gently. Guinevere sighed again, a more honest thing, and looked down._

_The camera shifted to focus more on Vivian, who looked exhausted._

_“That's what you were talking about, wasn't it?” Clarissant asked._

_“It was,” Vivian told her, “among other things.”_

_“Everyone seems to have things to do but me,” Clarissant complained, “So, I'm filming.”_

_“If you turn the camera off you can help us go over some things,” Guinevere offered._

“Huh,” Bedivere made a soft sound, “I know, objectively, she's here, but it's still weird to get videos from, well, here.”

Next to him, Kay made an amused sound. “Not the first one?” Kay asked.

“Third, actually,” Bedivere's one arm was wrapped around Kay's waist, “First was from Bors, actually.”

“Bors?” Galahad poked his head in the dining room-office hybrid, “Guinevere's making tea and wants to know if you two want anything.”

Kay looked like he was about to say no, but Bedivere said, “One with lemon and honey, one with two sugars and a splash of milk, please.”

After Galahad left, Kay looked at Bedivere, one eyebrow raised.

“You only say no to tea when you're stressed,” Bedivere leaned his head against Kay's shoulder, “and tea always helps you when you're stressed.”

“I missed you,” Kay locked his ankle with Bedivere's, “So, first one was from Bors.”

“Hang on, I have it here,” Bedivere tapped a few keys and the video in question started playing.

_The very edge of the property line was the last area that had not been salvaged from the decay and neglect that had taken over the property when Arthur and Guinevere decided to take it and make it their own. It seemed a different place entirely, debris strewn about and the grass dead where it existed at all._

_“Here,” Bors said to the camera as he tapped at a few stones with his foot, “is where we landed. Bertilak says he was focusing on a place of power within the property – we looked it up on Maps. Satellite view was very clear, but definitely old and from before the restoration efforts started.”_

_There was a small arrangement of broken paver stones that formed a rough Y shape by where he had indicated, already partly obscured by dead leaves._

_“Everyone else has gone inside,” Bors said, “but it seemed important to have more than the stones. Bertilak – he said he had no idea what made the space special. But he also said the magic envoked when we finally told the truth was so powerful the land spirits were angry but once he found us there was no magic more than one would expect. It makes me wonder if – if whatever angered the land spirits was not a story-related surge, but something seeking what we were talking about.”_

_Bors paused and started walking towards the general direction of the house._

_“It makes me wonder if **he** felt what we were doing and used that time to see if there's anywhere that could be...could be opened,” Bors' shudder was noticeable, “if he was hoping one of us would uncover it on our own.”_

_There was some fumbling before the video ended._

Kay made an unhappy noise and rested his cheek against the top of Bedivere's head.

“My thoughts exactly,” Bedivere said quietly, “Second video was much lighter, thankfully.”

“I can't believe I slept through breakfast,” Kay said with a yawn, “the jet lag wasn't nearly as bad going the other way.”

“Mmhmm,” Bedivere was already pulling up the next video, “You also were on the go, judging by the videos. I doubt you ever registered time for the first few weeks.”

“You know me,” Kay purred.

“Here,” Bedivere's cursor hovered on the play button, “this was the other one.”

_“I don't think that's right,” Galahad was somehow perched on the edge of one of the basement tables, the balls of his feet on the edge and nothing else, “it's a little too dark blue.”_

_“How can you tell, it's all dark blue!” Gawain complained._

_“You're the one who decided the ocean puzzle was the best one to start with,” Gareth was seated in a chair but leaned forward, sprawled out with one arm across the table._

_“I didn't know blue was so complicated,” Gawain grumbled, “At least we have the edge pieces sorted?”_

_“In theory,” Galahad was picking through some decisively non-edge pieces, “I didn't know they had puzzles.”_

_“I've been here a month and change and I didn't know they had a basement,” Gareth sounded defeated, but it was the dramatic type of defeated that promised to leave as soon as he sat up._

_“I'm convinced this place is endless,” Galahad put down two matched pieces._

_“How did you do that?” Gawain looked at Galahad like he'd just pulled a hat out of a live rabbit._

_A giggle that was distinctly Igraine's came from behind the camera._

_“Now that I know there are puzzles this is all I'm going to be doing,” Galahad said as is Gawain hadn't asked a question despite giving something resembling an answer._

_“I miss her,” Gareth said._

_There was a shift around the table and Galahad reached out to grab Gareth's hand and squeeze it before refocusing his balance._

_“Video calls and endless messages aren't the same,” Gareth sat up a little, “I know it's just two more days but it's. It's too long.”_

_“I know,” Galahad just sounded sad, “It's been far too long.”_

_“I wonder, sometimes, if we'd've gone with our partners, if everyone else would have come back when they did or tried to tough it out until the end of...whatever this is,” Gawain put the piece in his hand down, “If we would have tried to carry out whatever we were trying to do.”_

_“Magic finding,” Igraine reminded him, “and chasing legends.”_

_“Yeah, that,” Gawain picked up another piece and began tapping it against the table mindlessly._

_“Where's Bertilak?” Gareth asked, “I don't think I've seen you two apart since you got back.”_

_“Searching the yard for...something,” Gawain tapped the piece faster, “He seemed so focused and I didn't want to distract him.”_

_“This is about Ragnelle, isn't it?” Gareth asked more plainly. Gawain made a wounded sound by didn't deny it._

_“Talk with them,” Galahad had resumed focusing on the puzzle, “Seriously. Talk **with** them.”_

_Gawain, for what may have been one of the first times in his life, asked: “How?”_

_“Be honest,” Galahad snapped another two pieces together, “about what they mean to you, about what you're afraid of. They both love you dearly.”_

_Igraine made a soft noise and ended the video._

Kay kissed the top of Bedivere's head and Bedivere nestled into him.

“I can see why you started the project,” Kay told him, “There's something very humanizing about the videos.”

“Yeah,” Bedivere closed the laptop, “With so many of us back together, I didn't want,” he paused, a weight settling in his chest, “I didn't want us to lose who we are to whatever sense of duty is dragging us forward.”

“Arthur may be King,” Kay said quietly, a hint of a growl weaving itself through his words, “but you're the force that keeps everyone moving.”

Bedivere made a sound caught between disagreement and flattered. Kay let a small laugh escape as he pulled Bedivere up so their foreheads were touching.

Galahad entered and put two cups of tea in front of them as silently as he could.

“It's, uh,” Galahad cleared his throat, “it's obvious which one's got the milk in it.”

“Thank you,” Kay told him. It was a genuine thanks without hesitation or guard to it and Galahad made a nervous sort of laughing sound at the vulnerability it seemed to hold.

“Gwen says there's going to be food in ten minutes,” Igraine poked her head in, “and it's on a first-come, first-serve basis, so if you want any you might want to join everyone else who's crowded around the kitchen threshold.”

Galahad took that as his chance to exit gracefully.

“We'll be there in a moment,” Bedivere told her, “thank you.”

They stayed there like that for a moment, forehead to forehead, taking measured breaths in time with each other.

“I missed you so terribly,” Kay's voice sounded close to breaking, “I missed this.”

“Me, too,” Bedivere told him, “I was so worried.”

They stilled again, letting the air in the room still with them as Kay's eternal warmth enveloped them both.

“It's so good to feel your magic again,” Bedivere whispered, “I didn't realize how much it was missing until I felt it again.”

Kay chuckled a little, his shoulders shaking with the rest of the suppressed laughter.

“I plan on using it at every possible juncture,” Kay assured him, “It's so nice, the touch.”

It was something they'd realized their first life, how much pressure Bedivere needed to apply in even the most innocent of gestures for the feeling to get past the constant heat Kay generated.

“I'm here, now,” Bedivere promised him, “I am here.”

Food, they decided, could wait a few more moments.


End file.
